


Until Kingdom Come

by MyGirlThursday



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childbirth, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Pregnancy, References to Suicide/Euthanasia, Romance, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyGirlThursday/pseuds/MyGirlThursday
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan spends a year in the dark future timeline after Alexius sends Dorian and her there. To return to the past, she has to leave behind the man she grew to love after living through the apocalypse. Returning to life in the present is a struggle, especially after a surprising turn of events.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 110
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

Taissa Lavellan knew the night was likely her last. If, by some miracle, she survived through the morning, it would mean she was no longer in this world – in this timeline. Lavellan would be back in her rightful place in the past. Dorian and Lavellan had been hurtled one year into the future by Alexius, and now another year had come to pass. Funny how things went. Even though she met them first, her friends in the past were strangers compared to the versions she had been embedded with over the last year.

It was one of the subjects she didn’t bring up with Cullen. They refrained from talking about the Commander back in Haven. It was better to keep the two separate. In fact, she doubted she’d return. It seemed like a betrayal, but sometimes, Lavellan wished she could just stay in this future, even though darkness reigned. It was more familiar to her now. She’d lose her footing and have to go back to the start if she returned. However, Lavellan had to try. She owed it to the thousands of people who had perished all across Thedas in her absence and since her return, when the war effort had been rejuvenated and survivors had picked their swords back up in her name. They referred to her as the Herald of Andraste more than ever, despite how the marred sky turned greener with every passing day and the dead continued to pile at her feet.

Lavellan felt more like a barbarian queen, an Avaar, rather than anything resembling Andraste. She absentmindedly ran her hand across her scalp. Where thick white hair once fell wildly from her head was stubble less than an inch long. She was not a sentimental woman about her beauty, but her prematurely aged locks had been a source of pride for her. Now she looked no different than the many soldiers she commanded, though her simple but bold June vallaslin continued to make her stand out when face-to-face, even against the deep brown of her skin.

Her fingers, which now fidgeted with Cullen’s lucky coin on a delicate chain around her neck, were grasped by hands just as callused as hers. Cullen’s lips pressed to the top of head, and she turned to face him.

“Have you been awake long? Did you sleep at all?” His voice was rough from sleep, but his worried tone managed to come through. The worry was constant these days, but they both learned to manage it as much as possible. Tonight, however, was the last night, and the air was tense.

“Hmm.” Lavellan didn’t want to lie, so a noncommittal noise was the next best option. She continued staring at the crumbling ceiling above the bed they occupied in an abandoned house outside of Redcliffe. “What should I say to you?”

He sighed, pulling her into his arms. “So you didn’t sleep.”

Lavellan buried her face against his shoulder and pillow so that all she saw when she opened her eyes was blackness. “What should I say?”

“You’re mumbling, and I can barely hear you.”

She reluctantly raised out of her dark, safe spot, kissing his jaw, which bristled as much as his own shorn hair. For solidarity, he had said, but there was also no time for him to mind his own unwieldy curls. 

“What should I tell the Cullen back then?” She drew out her question with long syllables so that he wouldn’t be able to ignore it. Held flush against him, Lavellan felt his body stiffen.

There was nothing but silence from him. Outside, she could hear preparations for battle beginning. She rolled to the side of the bed, planning on getting ready for whatever the early morning would bring, but Cullen wouldn’t let her. “I don’t know. How can any of this be explained? And should it?” he groaned, covering his eyes.

Lavellan looked out the small window and saw a group of soldiers gather around a captain as he gave orders. She shrugged. “Maybe I won’t get the chance.”

“Don’t say that,” he ordered, his tone more reverent than commanding. He released her, and she sat up and rolled her breeches on. “Perhaps, you could reveal the nature of our relationship. I don’t know how that will affect things; all I know is that you helped save me, and I bet you’d save him, too.”

He came up from behind to wrap her in his arms and kiss her deeply, distracting her from getting dressed. “Cull-“ she breathlessly murmured against his lips.

“I know... the final battle awaits.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The words were simple and frequently exchanged between the two, but the weight of them was significant in this moment.

Cullen moved to help her suit up in her well-used armor, with its dents from red templar blades and scorches from Venatori magic. May it protect her today. Gods know what would happen should she fail.

* * *

They had done it. The rift that was forming glowed as Dorian performed time magic with the assistance of the amulet recovered from Alexius. Lavellan was exhausted, her body drenched in blood and sweat, but the exhilaration at defeating Alexius and being so close to escape kept her on her feet. Outside were the cries of battle as her compatriots sacrificed their lives to ensure she and Dorian made it out safely. Leliana and Cullen stood between the shaking door and them, positioned to fight. His back was to her, but Lavellan’s eyes were focused on him rather than the spellwork. In swarmed a horde of nightmarish fiends, bloodcurdling cries echoing throughout the hall. Leliana and Cullen leapt to action, her bow firing rapidly and his sword slicing through air and flesh.

Lavellan’s heart was in her throat. She teared herself away to check on Dorian, who was still working on his spell. From the perspiration that gleamed at this brow, she could tell he also knew the stakes. 

When she turned around, it was already too late. Leliana and Cullen had fallen. She had been run through, and his form lay prone on the floor. Lavellan wanted to run to him, but her feet carried her forward to the portal, and she jumped in with Dorian.

* * *

When Lavellan appeared in front of Alexius, Dorian at her side, she could hardly believe it. They had made it. They were back at the time when this had all started. Her legs gave out from under her, and Dorian reached out to prevent her from collapsing. It felt so strange. She knew she should deal with Alexius, but Varric and Iron Bull already had him pinned, and soldiers were marching in. Varric and Iron Bull. Their skin was unmarred, their pupils the right color. They were alive.

Lavellan was aware that Dorian was yelling something at her, Dorian and Iron Bull too. She couldn’t process what they were saying. All she heard was a rushing sound. 

“We did it, my dear,” Dorian managed to drag her to her feet. “Let’s settle this business with Alexius.”

Alexius crumbed once he realized his plan had been foiled, and Felix would face death. Lavellan almost felt sorry for the man, but having seen the future, she could only regard him with disgust. Soldiers came up and took Alexius away in chains.

It was over. Alexius was captured. All she wanted to do was be out of that blasted place, but then in marched Ferelden soldiers and King Alistair. Blah, blah, mages, Redcliffe, bitching at Fiona. All Lavellan could do was stare at him. The king was alive and breathing. The room went quiet, and she concluded that someone had asked for her input. She sided with mages, sympathetic for the persecution they faced, and because of her friendship with Dorian. At last it was time to move out, and Lavellan could hardly wait to see Haven whole again.

* * *

Of course, her advisors had wanted to speak to her as soon as she arrived back at Haven. The brief reports they had gotten from the crows had deeply concerned them, to say the least. Dorian had been able to convince them to let her have the night to herself, for which she was incredibly grateful. When she had rode through the gates on her horse, her companions, advisors, and the citizens who had gathered to welcome the party home cheered for her, but there were also stares. Lavellan was aware that she didn’t look the same way she did just days ago. She wore brand-new scars. Her once voluminous ponytail of tight ringlets had vanished, and the cheap but sturdy mail she had worn on her departure was replaced by a worn but extravagant set of the best silverite armor money could buy.

Returning to her cabin, Lavellan wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She managed to strip off her armor by herself and start up a fire. While the heat warmed up her fingers and toes, nausea washed over her, and soon she was back out in the snow in only her thin linen shirt. A passerby gave her a curious look as she made her way to the side of the cabin and promptly emptied the contents of her stomach into the snow. The coldness of the air bit at her skin, and she hurried back inside. Lavellan managed to procure a wooden bucket from her room and kept it at her side until she fell asleep - which, unfortunately, wasn’t for quite a while. Between the queasiness, the elation at being in the present, the lack of familiarity with her surroundings, and missing the world she had become acquainted with, she was a ball of nerves and conflicting emotions.

Lavellan was deep asleep when the scout awoke her. Ever since the Conclave, she had donned armor every day, much like Cullen. This morning, however, the thought of pulling it on was tiring in itself. Instead, Lavellan selected a loose tunic and leather leggings that dug into her bloated stomach. She prayed that she did not have the urge to vomit this morning or fall asleep while standing. The time jump had left her out of sorts.

The scout led her into the room where Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen were waiting. Cassandra was also present, leaning against one of the walls. She was anxious upon noticing that Dorian was absent, but a pair of hands fell on her shoulders, alarming her. Dorian had arrived right behind her. With a signal to the scout who had escorted her, the doors were closed behind them.

“Herald, I hope you slept well,” Josephine greeted her with a smile.

Cullen nodded at her, his expression warm but with no heat behind it. His face wasn’t as lined as it was in the future, but it wasn’t as soft when he regarded her. His hair gleamed in the candlelight from some sort of product, and Lavellan had to resist the urge to reach out and pull at one of his wavy locks.

“Well, we have much to discuss if we could get started.” Leliana held a stack of parchment in her hands. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

Leliana read back the reports Dorian had sent on Lavellan’s behalf during their journey back to Haven. She was thankful that Dorian had seemingly only provided the highlights, skipping over the more intimate details. The discussion of what had happened when they arrived was easy enough to withstand, but hearing the recounting of the future caused her to sweat.

Dorian and Lavellan had been sent one year into the future. It was a much darker world: one where the Elder One reigned. Varric and Iron Bull had been kept in cells and exposed to red lyrium. Leliana, meanwhile, had been tortured. They had managed to get to Alexius, but were not able to find his amulet before demons swarmed them. Varric and Iron Bull had sacrificed themselves, staying behind to fight off the hordes while Dorian, Leliana, and Lavellan escaped. Leliana led them back to what remained of their old group. Cassandra and Cullen were running the show. Vivienne, Josephine, and Blackwall were still there, though Sera had perished and Solas had disappeared into thin air. Hawke was there too, and some of her friends. Lavallan closed any breaches she could while they made plans to return to Redcliffe and search for the amulet. The rifts between Skyhold and there were numerous, and the assaults were constant. Scouts reported a massive wave heading their way, and they all believed it to be the end. Blackwall died in the battle, and Vivienne shortly thereafter. Amazingly, Lavellan and her other companions had survived. They left behind their temporary base and had their army sneak into the castle for one last attempt. Every single person except for Dorian and Lavellan fell in the onslaught, but they recovered the amulet and jumped back to the present before they could be killed.

Hearing all of it made her stomach roll. She was aware of the others talking, but her mind was focused on whether or not to exit the room and go heave in the corridor. 

“Are you alright? Are you ill?” Cullen’s questions, the concern evident in his voice, caught her attention.

The Lavellan of a year ago – or a couple of days ago in this timeline – would have brushed him off, not wishing her advisors to find her weak. But she was not the same person anymore. “No, I am not alright. Frankly, coming back here has been quite a transition.”

“I can get a healer,” Josephine offered.

“I think some herbal tea is in order,” Dorian declared, stepping out of the room to ask one of the scouts outside to bring in a cup for the Herald. “They’re bringing some.”

“Great.” Lavellan pressed a palm to her damp forehead.

“I hope you do feel better, Herald. You should take time to rest before we close the Breach,” Leliana soothed, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on her arm.

Lavellan nodded and took a deep breath, eager to exit the stuffy room, be alone, and rest.


	2. Chapter 2

After returning from the briefing with her advisors, Lavellan had crashed in her cabin, curled up under her coverlet. A knocking at the door roused her from her slumber sometime later.

“Who is it?” she called, reluctant to emerge from her cozy cocoon.

“Solas. I wanted to see if you are alright. I heard you were not feeling well,” came the reply.

Lavellan stretched and stepped out of bed, quickly dragging her pants on and wrapping a blanket around her torso. “You can come in!”

Solas entered and took in her appearance. “ _Lethallan_ , you are pale.” He walked over to her and gently placed a hand on her cheek. 

Lavellan couldn’t stop herself from flinching. She had forgotten how close the two of them were prior to her disappearance. While she did train frequently with Cullen, she had been enraptured by Solas’s tales of her people. Lavellan had never absorbed them during her time with her clan, her head always in the clouds, thinking of mythical quests and the worlds of others. 

“ _Ara seranna-ma_ ,” Solas apologized, removing his hand as if he had been burned. “You have been gone for a year, even though it was less than a minute for us. I have been too familiar.”

She pulled the blanket tighter across her body. “Thank you for understanding.”

“I am concerned about your well-being; is the Anchor bothering you?” he asked as he absentmindedly touched objects on her desk, seemingly wanting to create some distance between them.

“It’s just this time magic business,” she sighed. “I’m sure it will go away soon. In the meantime, rest is what I have been prescribed.”

Hoping he would take the hint, she leaned back onto her bed. Solas nodded, understanding her intent. “I’ll take my leave of you, then. I did have one question for you, though. Can I ask what became of me in this future?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Solas was observing her intently, his eyes clearly scanning for any hint from her facial expression or body language. “I don’t want to discuss the future.”

“ _Telandas_ ,” Solas replied. Nothing is inevitable.

“Even so.” She rolled onto her side, facing the cabin’s wall, and lifted the coverlet over herself. She yawned. “Maybe with time.”

“ _Ir abelas_. You are exhausted.” Lavellan could feel Solas adjust the bedding, covering a part of her back that she had missed. “Sleep well, Taissa.”

In his absence, she finally relaxed. Solas had been a mysterious wanderer from the start, but her experiences in the future had caused her to be wary of him. He had been missing when she had first popped up in the dark timeline, but he materialized months after she had been there. Solas had then offered any support he could provide to help her return to the present, and even though her remaining companions and advisors urged her to send him away for abandoning the cause, she had welcomed him. Anyone could be of use, but Solas also provided knowledge beyond theirs. 

* * *

_Solas had amassed a network of elves during his time away. Apparently, he had developed into some sort of folk hero. He explained his absence by noting that he was devastated by her apparent death. The sorrow was genuine and evident on his face, in the touches that were too long to be of those from an acquaintance. That had all halted, however, once he had quietly explored their camp at night and stumbled upon Cullen and Lavellan sneaking a quick kiss during patrol. After Cullen and Lavellan had parted, she caught Solas in the corner of her eye. She stepped away from Cullen, embarrassed despite realizing she shouldn't be. Cullen turned to search for whatever Lavellan had been looking at, and he scowled upon recognizing Solas’s retreating figure._

_Lavellan grasped Cullen’s jaw, drawing his gaze to her once more. “Don’t,” she ordered._

_“You were not here. He left us,” he growled._

_Lavellan stroked her thumb over this cheek to soothe the tension. “We need him now more than ever. He has been a friend to me.”_

_“And since he has returned, do you want him to be more than a friend to you?” he asked softly. He averted her gaze._

_Lavellan drew him closer to her. She wanted him to feel how much she loved him and how important he was to her. They had declared their love for each other already, but Solas’s return had left him vulnerable. “No. You are my heart,” she whispered fiercely._

_It seemed good enough to placate Cullen’s worries because he crossed the distance and reclaimed her lips, and as she opened her mouth to him, she knew she was his heart, too._

* * *

When Lavellan awoke again, it was night. Her cabin was dark, with no light pouring in from the window or the cracks underneath the door. Her dreams had compelled her to recall the feeling of kissing Cullen, and she pressed his lucky coin to her lips before tucking it away in a leather pouch that she had started discreetly carrying on her person.

She squeezed her eyes tightly, impeding the tears that threatened to spill. She felt so very alone in the bed by herself. Lavellan should have sought out Solas after their conversation, but after she slipped into her boots and left her warm lodgings, her feet carried her to the Chantry.

She was certainly not a follower of Andraste, and though she had been taught about the eleven gods as she grew up in her clan, she was not a passionate scholar of them either. However, she enjoyed the peaceful nature of an empty prayer hall, and she prayed on occasion to no one specifically.

The moonlight from a brilliant yellow full moon guided her through the snow. Most fires outside had died, with the inhabitants of Haven tucked away in their cabins. She unlatched the heavy door to the Chantry and was taken aback to find it glowing inside. Lit candles dotted the space, so she was afraid someone was currently occupying it.

“You can come in,” a rough masculine voice called to her from somewhere within the Chantry.

Reluctantly, Lavellan stepped inside and closed the door to the freezing air. Her vision adjusted to the warm dim light, and she realized the voice was Cullen’s, who was seated in a pew near the front. Lavellan should have turned back, but she made her way to him and sat down on the pew on the opposite side of the aisle. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, noting the hand at his forehead and the dark circles. It must be a difficult night of lyrium withdrawal symptoms for him, but of course, she wasn’t supposed to know that. His head was tilted down, so lost in a headache or something, that she decided to speak without further consideration.

“You should talk to some of the mages about your symptoms. Those from Dalish clans,” she called to him quietly.

That got his attention. He gave her a hard look. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “How would you know? Did Cassandra say something to you?”

Lavellan gave a shy shrug, and realization dawned on Cullen’s face. “From the future?”

“You had made it through the worst of the withdrawal by then, you said,” Lavellan answered, hoping it would encourage him to persevere.

Cullen grunted. “I suppose that’s something.”

Lavellan continued, “It might help if you massage here and here.” She gestured at pressure points on her own skull, and Cullen copied her motion.

“That does feel a little better,” he admitted. “Where did you learn that?”

Lavellan glanced away at a window, the slightest hint of a blush arising across her cheekbones. “From the Dalish,” she lied.

“Thank the Dalish,” he replied lightly, with a smile before it faded. “I know we’ll be closing the Breach soon, so it may not matter anyway, but I will take lyrium again should you wish me to. I want to give my best.”

“What, and keep having you take it until all of your memories have vanished? That would be horrible.” Lavellan shuddered. “Never. I can only imagine how difficult it is, but I do believe it is a worthwhile endeavor. You are not weak. If anything, this only shows your strength.”

Her words seemed to have reinvigorated Cullen, who sat upright. “I don't suppose you had practice with that speech?”

Lavellan frowned. “You didn’t need much of my help with that. Only on the darkest days. The nightmares.”

“Nightmares? I told you about them?” Cullen asked in disbelief.

Damn it. He didn’t share openly about his experiences with the Circles. “Yes… you told me about them.”

“We must have been close,” he noted.

“We are were then. The hardships brought us all together,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. In the present, her companions and her were more fractured than they had been in the future.

“It must be quite an adjustment. Here I am blathering about some stupid headache, and what you’ve just been through…” Cullen apologized.

Lavellan laughed. “It’s been an adjustment. It’s driven me to the Chantry.”

Cullen laughed, too. “I didn’t take you for Andrastian.”

After their laughter had died down, Cullen stood up and gripped his cloak. “I should head back and give you the quiet you were seeking.”

Lavellan wanted to ask him to stay, but she resisted the temptation. “I hope you’ll put aside work for one night and allow yourself some rest,” she chided good-naturedly.

“I’ll try, my lady.” Cullen bowed, ever polite, and left her alone with her thoughts and the hall of glowing candles that prevented her from falling into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Lavellan did not celebrate after the Breach was closed. After what she had experienced, this victory was suspiciously easy. She kept her guard up as she surveyed the merrymaking, declining the tankard of ale Dorian offered her.

“Drink up, my friend!” Dorian cheered, chugging from his own tankard as they stood on the outskirts of the crowd gathered in the village square. Given his fondness for quality wine and distaste of what he called horse-piss ale, she was surprised to see him drinking it like water.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Never better! Ahh!” Dorian wiped foam from his mustache and twisted the ends to make sure he maintained his appearance. “We should be celebrating. You should be celebrating!”

“I hardly feel like it,” Lavellan muttered, folding her arms in front of her.

“Cullen would have wanted you to - Cullen does want you to!” Dorian threw his head in the direction of the Commander standing at the opposite side of the gathering. “Have you spoken to him yet?”

“We’ve chatted yes, but if you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then no.”

“Why are you torturing yourself? Just tell the man,” Dorian groaned. He started drinking his second tankard, the one he had brought for her. “Well, if you’re going to be a stick in the mud, I’m going to go flirt with Iron Bull.”

“Hey, Dorian.” Lavellan spread her arms and pulled him in for a quick but firm hug. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he laughed.

“For everything.” Lavellan was teary-eyed, thinking about the close friendship they had developed over the last year, and how the two of them had done the impossible. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and shoved him away playfully. “Now get out of here and go chat up Bull.” 

“You’re being weird, but I‘m going to ignore that,” he called back to her. More seriously, “If you need to talk or anything, come get me.”

She wanted to go crawl into her cabin and hibernate, but she figured the Herald ought to be making an appearance. So Lavellan stood like a statue, overlooking the relieved partiers, and imagined Cullen standing behind her, his arms around her waist and him whispering in her ear. Instead, Cullen gave her a small wave opposite her, and she gave a weak one back.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a spirit named Cole arrived at the gates and warned of red templars approaching, led by bloody Samson. Her stomach rolled at the news, and she tasted the metallic tang of blood. She had unconsciously bitten her lip, splitting it.

There was not a second to dawdle. She protected the trebuchets and then rescued the townspeople. They regrouped in the Chantry. The Elder One was there for her. There was a way for everyone to escape… but only if she, the Elder One’s target, remained. There was a slim chance that she could bury him and Haven in snow.

All eyes were on her, and Lavellan wanted to laugh in hysteria. What was the point of everything if she just returned in time to die at the Elder One’s hands almost immediately? The knowledge she had gained in that timeline was apparently of little use. If the future she had experienced was any indicator, the world would fall shortly after she did. The options, however, were limited, so she agreed to stay behind. At least give others a chance to live. Like Cullen.

She was taken aback when he gravely announced, “I’ll stay with you.” 

It was true that they had developed a friendship in Haven, as they shared an interest in swordsmanship and strategy, but they were both professionals. If anything, Lavellan had become more distant lately, haunted by her ghosts. “Absolutely not,” Lavellan huffed. “Someone needs to lead the people to safety, and that’s you.”

“And what are we to do if you are lost?” he questioned.

“Go! We don’t have much time,” she snapped. To have her last words to him be so harsh filled her with shame and regret, but thankfully it pushed him to reconsider.

“So be it.”

Lavellan knew he was unhappy, his jaw was tense, but there was nothing to be done about it. He began directing townspeople and went to leave. Lavellan found her feet stuck to the ground. She should have been hustling toward the trebuchet, but she was watching Cullen depart. As if he could feel her staring, he turned to her.

“Please… come back alive,” he said. Behind his stoic façade, Lavellan could tell he was deeply worried.

She approached him, placing her gloved hand on his. “You take care as well,” she said, the words heavy on her tongue, as if she was attempting to imbue all her feelings upon them.

He nodded once and took his leave. The Elder One awaited her.

* * *

Lavellan awoke, and it was not the stars above her, but a swath of fabric from a makeshift tent. She lived, though barely, as she could still feel the cold in her bones despite the furs wrapped around her and a nearby roaring fire. Her joints were stiff, and bandages had been tightly wound across the injuries she sustained. A couple of healers stood over her and provided a summary of her condition. They were not able to finish speaking with her before her advisors and companions descended upon her. Normally, their swarming her after a mission or battle would have annoyed her; rarely was there an opportunity to catch one’s breath or change out of filthy clothes before she was bombarded. However, Lavellan was so relieved that she did not drift away in the snow that she greeted every well-wisher and piece of news with a small smile, despite the loss of Haven. 

After Dorian had almost cried for fear of losing her, and then cheering up himself and her, the last two stragglers were Solas and Cullen, and Lavellan was amused by this. Cullen turned to Solas, as if anticipating he would leave, but when Solas didn’t budge, Cullen approached Lavellan’s bedside.

“Umm.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad to see you alive. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it when we found you. They told me I should stop searching, on account of the cold, and umm, the unlikelihood of finding you alive… but here you are.”

“You found me?” Lavellan asked, her voice low from exhaustion. “I thought so. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming, but I remembered your coat…” She had a memory of everything being black and feeling icy-to-the-touch metal against her and the softness of fur tickling her face. But it was the smell of his soap and the armor polish that she recalled most strongly, reminding her of her love.

Cullen cleared his throat yet again. “Yes. Well, umm. I’ll leave you to catch up with Solas. I just wanted to say what you did was incredibly courageous, and we will rise again thanks to you.”

“We will,” Lavellan intoned. “And we all played a part. And Cullen - thank you.”

Cullen looked as if he wanted to say more, but he seemed to have decided against it, closing his mouth and letting Solas step up to her. He waited a few seconds, observing Solas leaning over her, and departed.

“ _Lethallan_ .” Solas touched her forehead, and his fingers felt like fire to her. “I was afraid you had perished.”

“Not today,” she exhaled. She wanted to fall asleep like this, his warm hand a comfort that told her everything would be alright. But there were people waiting for her to lead them onward in the face of defeat.

Solas hesitated. “There’s something we should speak of-”

“I don’t think I can lie here any longer. Could you help me up?” Lavellan interrupted, and Solas unburied her from the bundled blankets. “Let’s talk later, after I somehow figure out our next move.”

“Well, that’s not what I had intended to discuss, but I think I have an idea of a place we can explore.”

* * *

_ “This is home,” Leliana muttered, her voice still hoarse from whatever she had endured in Redcliffe. Leliana didn’t talk about it on the long, arduous journey, and Lavellan didn’t ask. Leliana sounded hollow as she gave Dorian and Lavellan a tour of the resistance’s dusty, ramshackle headquarters, located west of the Western Approach, at the very end of Thedas. _

_ Everything was caked with reddish brown dirt, and the climate was so arid Lavellan could feel her skin already drying. Under huts and tents were refugees in tattered clothing, peeking out to witness the return of the Herald. There were several rudimentary buildings as well, where operations were based. She greeted all her former advisors and companions warmly. _

_ A year had made quite a difference. Lavellan met Hawke, sullen and silent, who had no reaction to the news about Varric. Both Cassandra and Vivienne greeted her with enthusiastic hugs, and Lavellan froze in astonishment. Josephine welcomed her with a bright smile, but not without questions, and Blackwall was stoic as ever, but he was pleased to see additional help arrive. Of course, Leliana had told Lavellan and Dorian about who had passed, but Lavellan truly felt the loss when they weren’t there at the camp. _

_ Everyone had one of three reactions to her return. One, they believed she had abandoned them and doubted she had time-travelled. The resentment was etched on their faces. Two, they took it as a sign the tide was turning, and it was divine intervention from the Maker. Several of the refugees cried and bowed down to the ground at the sight of her. Three, they didn’t think it was really her. Cullen fell into the last group. _

_ Soldiers were training under the gleaming sun. A figure stood at the front of them, and Lavellan recognized Cullen’s armor. As Leliana, Dorian, and Lavellan got closer, she noticed his curls were now long and tied back by a cord. New scars were etched upon his skin, and he looked leaner. She was torn from noting the differences when Cullen lunged at her, only to be held back by Leliana and Dorian. _

_ “Leliana, please tell me you didn’t fall for this demon,” Cullen hissed. _

_ “Cullen!” Leiiana shouted and would not release him from her grip. She then said more quietly, “It’s her. It’s really her.” _

_ “Are you certain you haven’t fallen in temptation?” he replied sternly. _

_ Leliana slapped him, and the smacking sound rang out. Cullen lowered his weapon and pressed a hand to his reddened cheek. _

_ “Don’t you dare, after what I’ve been through,” Leliana whispered. _

_ Lavellan hesitated before interrupting their fight and addressing Cullen. “How can I prove to you that I’m who I say I am?” _

_ He grunted but didn’t answer her question. _

_ “I guess it will just take time then,” she said to herself. _


	4. Chapter 4

After the Inquisition had settled into their new fort, Skyhold, a healer approached the threshold of Lavellan’s quarters one morning as she prepared to head out to the blasted Fallow Mire. As far as Lavellan was aware, her wounds had healed completely, and she had more energy than she had in weeks. 

“Can I help you?” Lavellan inquired briskly, eager to hit the road and complete the next dreaded excursion as quickly as possible. She was not fond of gloomy bogs filled with the undead. Furthermore, she planned on finally having a heart-to-heart with Cullen about the future as soon as she returned, and she was a ball of nerves.

“Yes. I wanted to speak with you about a confidential matter,” the healer meekly replied. Of course, a personal side quest to retrieve some lost family heirloom or something. Must have been very sensitive for her to corner Lavellan in her bedchamber.

“Alright. Come in and you can close the door.” Lavellan continued pulling articles of clothing out of her wardrobe and onto her bed. She hoped the woman did not find her rude for packing while they talked, but an awkward moment of silence passed. Lavellan halted and found the healer staring at her expectantly, the door now shut behind her.

“I’m sorry. What is it?” Lavellan questioned, a folded tunic in her hands.

“It’s about your health, Inquisitor -”

“What of it? I assumed my wounds were in excellent condition.”

“It’s not about that, exactly. When we were healing the injuries you sustained after Haven, we noticed your condition. We weren’t certain if you were already aware of it, but felt it was our duty to inform you.”

“What condition?” Lavellan frowned.

“Your pregnancy, Inquisitor.”

Lavellan felt as if she was falling from a great height. The shirt she had clutched slid to the floor as her hands went to her stomach. She found it distended, as had been the case since she travelled back to the present. She had been sick in the previous weeks, and fatigue had rendered her rudderless. Her thoughts raced. When was the last time she had bled? Lavellan couldn’t recall; the last several months were a blur.

“Shit,” Lavellan mumbled, slouching onto her bed. “Shit.”

She was still in a trance from the news, but she found herself smiling. A piece of the Cullen she had loved had managed to survive in this world. Her grin soon dissipated when she realized that leading the Inquisition was an extremely high-risk position for a pregnant woman.

“I take it you did not know?” the healer asked quietly. Lavellan had forgotten the woman remained in the room.

“No, I didn’t,” she admitted. “Is the babe healthy?”

The other woman nodded. “The child was, at least when we last checked. They must be strong.”

“Ha, they would be. Just like their parents,” Lavellan chuckled, but the laughter died on her tongue. “How am I supposed to carry a child through a war?”

“Mothers can do incredible things. If you do not want this child, there are options. If you do want to carry this child, it would be best to come see me and the others every so often so we can examine you and ensure the babe is growing on schedule and is healthy.”

“This is a lot to take in,” Lavellan commented, rising to get back on her feet. “Thank you for informing me. I shall let you know in regards to my decision. In the meantime, reanimated corpses await.”

The healer bowed and left, her expression relieved, likely at the fact that Lavellan had not lashed out or broken down before her. One step in front of the other, Lavellan told herself. She shoved her pregnancy to the recesses of her mind, along with her plans to talk to Cullen.

* * *

_Lavellan woke up in Cullen’s arms, her bare skin pressed to his. Groggy, she extracted herself and slipped out of his bed. He had awoken with intense nightmares that had left her heart beating fast in the middle of the night. Cullen had warned her before they fell asleep, but she had been startled nonetheless._

_He was still, the sheet draped across his waist, revealing his chiseled physique. Lavellan wanted to curl up beside him, but she had an errand to run. She threw on her clothes and headed outside. It was dawn and few were out, but luckily Adan, the apothecary, was already up working in his small lean-to._

_She hesitated, but she needed the herbs to brew “morning after” tea. Lavellan was familiar with making the tea, having learned in her clan. She blushed as she asked the man for the ingredients, assuming he was acquainted with the recipe. Lavellan would have procured them on her own ahead of time, but she hadn’t anticipated last night._

_Now in the morning light, she was attending to the not-so-romantic aftermath. Adan only had a little of what Lavellan required. The land wasn’t fertile, and collecting herbs other than elfroot wasn’t a priority on most excursions. Lavellan didn’t want to completely deplete Adan’s low stock, so she took enough for one cup and returned to Cullen’s tent._

_A fire was burning outside the entrance, with a kettle on a pole over the flames. She took the opportunity to brew a cup of the herbal tea and brought it inside, where Cullen was awake, dressed, and waiting for her by the looks of it._

_“Water ready?” he asked. “Where did you go?”_

_“I needed this.” Lavellan drank all of the tea in one go. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve as Cullen stared blankly. “We’re going to need to be more careful, unless… last night was a one time thing?”_

_“We shouldn’t-" he sighed._

_“I don’t want it to be a one time thing,” she interrupted._

_He looked relieved. “Me neither,” he admitted hoarsely._

_“We might die tomorrow. I might not ever go back. We should enjoy life while we can,” she rationalized. Lavellan looked down at the remnants of the herbs at the bottom of her cup and mused, “Could you imagine having a child in the middle of this?”_

_“I never thought I’d have the opportunity to have children after joining the Order.”_

_Lavellan shrugged. “Could take it or leave it. But certainly not anytime soon.”_

* * *

There wasn’t time to think over the options Lavellan had in regards to the life growing within her. Hawke had shown up, and there was Crestwood to muddle through, and then Adamant.

With Hawke, Stroud, Solas, Varric, and Dorian at her side, they had crossed the Veil and entered the Fade itself. She hyperventilated once she understood what had transpired. To be locked in the Fade was a living nightmare, and then of course, there was the Nightmare. They were surrounded by fear and a terrible demon. She could be stuck there for all eternity, the child in her womb frozen in time. She was paralyzed to the spot, until some soothing words from Solas brought her out of it. In the battle against the Nightmare, Solas guarded her, keeping a barrier around her and even using himself as a shield when necessary.

Alas, their only hope of returning meant someone had to stay behind. It pained her deeply, but she let Hawke remain. Stroud was needed to lead what was left of the Wardens, and Hawke felt personally responsible for Corypheus and the disastrous events in Kirkwall. Lavellan understood her guilt and let her seek the absolution she desired.

Varric fought against it, but Dorian dragged him forward, back to the world of the living. Solas staggered, his mana depleted from his efforts on Lavellan’s behalf. She supported him, joining the sides of their hips as his head rolled onto her shoulder.

Lavellan was relieved when they reappeared at Adamant, seemingly shortly after they had left. The soldiers cheered at their return. Cassandra and Cullen ran across the battlements toward their motley group. Varric collapsed, and Cassandra went to Dorian to ask what had happened and help Varric up, while Cullen came across to Solas’s opposite side, assisting Lavellan with carrying him to a healer.

“Are you injured?” Cullen asked her.

“I’m fine, thanks to Solas,” Lavellan answered. Solas glanced at her and allowed a small smile.

Once they had found an available healer’s tent, Lavellan and Cullen had parted from Solas to let him recuperate. Outside the tent, Lavellan wasn’t sure where to go, until Cullen placed his hands on her arms.

“You’re shaking,” he noted.

Lavellan hadn’t noticed it before, but she could now. Her bones were rattling, but she was hot under her armor.

Cullen became alarmed when she did not respond. “Here, come with me.”

Lavellan let him pull her by the hand to his tent, where he had her sit in a folding chair at his table-turned-desk covered in missives and maps.

“Are you hurt?” Cullen questioned urgently. Before she could answer, Cullen began peeling her armor off. Lavellan flinched and clutched her chest plate to her body.

“I’m okay, Cullen, really,” she pleaded. Lavellan didn’t want him to see what lay beneath.

He relented, instead reaching for a cloth and dipping into a basin. Meanwhile, Lavellan leaned forward with her head between her legs, letting the blood rush to her brain. When she was sufficiently calm and had collected her wits, Lavellan rose, only for Cullen to instruct her to tilt her head backward. He laid a cool, damp washcloth to her forehead.

“It’s boiling outside,” Cullen grunted.

When all she did was make a noncommittal noise, Cullen hesitated and asked, “What happened?”

Lavellan grimaced. “I sent the Champion of Kirkwall to her death, an eternity spent in hell. Encountered ghoulish creatures and walked through the Fade itself,” she replied bitterly.

Cullen was wide-eyed at her summary. “You were in the Fade?” Then it hit him, and his mouth twisted. “Hawke is dead?”

Lavellan was aware that Hawke and Cullen spent years in Kirkwall as acquaintances, sometimes friendly, sometimes adversarial. But he had told her in the future that the events of Kirkwall, and thereby Hawke, had sent him away from the problematic Order and put him onto the path of redemption. He respected the woman, and Lavellan had essentially damned her.

She reluctantly nodded, and she noted the lines on Cullen’s forehead deepened as his face fell. 

“I can’t believe it. That explains Varric.”

“I hope he will understand someday. That eventually he’ll forgive me. It’s what she wanted. It was either her or Stroud, and the Grey Wardens…” she explained, taking off the cool compress to look at Cullen head-on. 

Lavellan was scared he would disapprove or find her logic faulty. She was relieved when he said, “It sounds like that was the only course of action.”

So relieved, in fact, that she burst into ridiculous tears. Damn the hormones that caused her emotions to swing like a pendulum. Lavellan was grateful that Cullen did not fault her for Hawke, but she was also thankful that she had come out of the battle whole despite placing the baby and herself in such a dangerous situation. She brought her unborn child into the realm of demons. She could have lost everything.

Lavellan was pulled out of her outburst when Cullen awkwardly stroked away a trail of tears that had crossed her dust-covered cheek with his handkerchief.

“You’re here. You did the best that anyone could have done,” Cullen soothed, though he seemed surprised by her uncharacteristic behavior.

She could not stop herself from leaning toward his palm, going so far as to press her hand to his as she continued to weep. However, a scout interrupted; Cassandra wished to speak with Cullen immediately. Cullen and Lavellan quickly dropped their hands, and Lavellan laid the washcloth back across her whole face, hiding from embarrassment. A rumor was sure to start about the weak, crying Inquisitor and the Commander who took pity on her. Cullen promised that he would return to his tent as soon as possible, but Lavellan collected herself and went to check on Solas.

Solas was alone in his tent, glass bottles that once held lyrium discarded on the ground. Solas appeared asleep, but when Lavellan opened the flap at the entrance, his eyes shot open. “ _Lethallan_ , how are you?” he greeted, his voice only slightly fainter than normal.

“I should be asking you that question,” she replied, frowning to see her dear friend so drained. Without any seats available in the sparse triage tent, she sat on the ground next to his cot. “What were you thinking? I can handle myself!”

Solas absorbed her words without changing his expression. “You did not seem yourself. I only desired to protect you and the Anchor,” he said.

“I can protect myself and the damn Anchor,” Lavellan retorted, holding up the hand that glowed green. “I’ve had it for a while now and haven’t lost it yet.”

Solas remained peaceful despite her clear frustration. Slowly, it dawned on Lavellan.

“Unless it’s not just about the Anchor. You healed me after Haven,” she stated.

“I helped, yes. Many were in need of medical attention that night.”

“You know,” she accused him.

Solas let his eyes drift shut. “What do you speak of?”

“Don’t play the ignorant fool with me, Solas. You were guarding me because I’m pregnant.”

Solas reopened his eyes and looked at her now. “So you are aware.”

“Yes. Recently,” she admitted. “Have you told anyone?”

“No, I would never betray your trust about something like that,” Solas answered, offended.

“Good,” Lavellan exhaled, allowing her body to slack. “Although, I will have to tell everyone soon.”

Solas merely nodded, his eyelids drooping.

“You could have gotten yourself killed out there,” she chided. She was concerned by his appearance, but knew he would recover with rest. “I don’t want you to feel beholden. That you must protect me even if it means your life - whether it’s about the Anchor or my pregnancy. Because - because - you are not the father of this child, if that’s why you’re doing this.”

Lavellan’s admission did not phase him, but there was a flash of something in his eyes. Something sharp like pain or anger. 

“That does not change the fact that I am concerned for your well-being and that of your child,” Solas said softly.

Once, Lavellan had imagined Solas as a potential romantic partner. She saw a future where he might have been the father of her child, where she brought him tea as he studied ancient texts long into the night, where she kissed his forehead when it furrowed as he was lost in thought. But at the forefront of her mind now were her memories of the Cullen she knew.

“It is a shame that I did not show you my intentions in the future,” Solas stated, as if reading her mind. 

Lavellan considered ignoring this, but decided to answer. “It was not a matter of that. You’re dear to me, Solas. If you must know, you had disappeared prior to my arrival in the future and were missing for some time. And later on, you were hardly forthcoming.”

“I see. I can’t begin to predict what led to my actions then. I take no pleasure in being elusive,” he apologized.

Lavellan reached forward to comfort her friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know your intentions are good. I merely wish you allowed me to see the whole picture.”

Solas nodded. “I wish I could show you.”

Lavellan’s hand fell away, and she turned to the tent’s entrance, where Dorian’s head poked in. “Nothing like a little tour of the Fade, am I right?”

She laughed despite herself, and the tension in the air was released. Dorian offered her a hand, and she grabbed it to stand up. “Let’s go home,” she said, and then quieter, leaning closer to Dorian’s ear, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”


	5. Chapter 5

Back at Skyhold, it was becoming difficult for Lavellan to keep her armor buckled over the burgeoning bump that had become her lower belly. She determined it was time to speak. She’d already been putting it - she knew she shouldn’t really refer to the unborn child within her as “it” - in danger. Perhaps telling the Inner Circle would make this pregnancy seem more real. Ignoring it forever wasn’t a possibility.

Dorian agreed to be by her side when she called a meeting in the war room. When Dorian reached out his hand toward her, she grasped it. She did not dare look at Cullen’s face, or anyone else’s; her eyes remained fixed on the table. Lavellan considered not saying anything, but Dorian cleared his throat loudly, indicating she should get on with it. “Thank you all for coming. The reason you’re here is because I am not certain how much I can participate in the field given my current state,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked, his hand tightening on the pommel of his sword, brows furrowed.

“I’m sure many of you may have guessed, but others may be surprised. I can’t hide it anymore from you, and though it’s of a personal nature, it will affect my role, and thus the Inquisition.” Her words spilled out so quietly and quickly that she was afraid no one understood her, but they all kept looking straight at her. She could feel her cheeks turning red, though her skin tone and tattoo may have helped obscure the depth of her embarrassment at this public declaration. Dorian squeezed her hand. Deep breath. “I’m pregnant. Just over halfway through.”

Silence followed her statement. Lavellan glanced at Leliana’s face; the spy was as stoic as ever. Likely not a shock for her then. Cassandra was aghast, her mouth left hanging open. Solas remained pensive, and Blackwall had no reaction, but Vivienne’s composed demeanor couldn’t veil a sense of disapprovement. Varric slightly shook his head, Sera giggled, and Iron Bull seemed ready to join her. Cullen was beet red.

It was Sera who broke the ice, as usual. “I didn’t know you were swapping spit ‘stead of sharing gossip all this time you were holed up together. Thought ‘e preferred a bear to a honeypot,” she joked.

“Sera!” Dorian snapped.

Lavellan withdrew from Dorian’s grasp and threw Sera a sharp look. “This baby is not Dorian’s,” she sighed.

“Yes, our fine Inquisitor isn’t exactly my type,” Dorian butted in. “No offense, of course.”

“Then who is the father?” Cassandra asked, before Josephine swatted at her with the parchment she was holding.

“Cassandra! Surely that is only the Inquisitor's business. What matters is how we proceed - how Lavellan would like to.”

“I agree. She doesn’t need a public interrogation. How can we support you, Inquisitor?” Leliana inquired.

The room stilled. “As for how to proceed, there’s no going back now,” Lavellan answered. “I want to mitigate any risks in the field. How can I be effective, without harming myself or the baby? How can I be less of a liability?”

“I understand your concern. Cullen, Josephine, and I will discuss how we can best address any potential issues,” Leliana replied.

“Good.” Lavellan nodded, satisfied. All eyes remained on her, so she was relieved when Leliana dismissed the meeting, and she could escape before Cassandra chased her down to ask her about baby names. It wasn’t until she entered the hallway that she realized Cullen had not said anything at all.

* * *

The sun had just crested the horizon, filling Skyhold with brilliant red morning light as Lavellan arrived in the secluded courtyard where Cullen had asked her to meet him. Her advisors had insisted she adopt a new combat style that would better protect her, rather than her aggressive charging technique. It was Cullen’s first training session with her since Haven, and she was looking forward to it. Her trusty longsword was strapped to her back, the helm rising above her head and casting a shadow on the ground. Cullen already stood patiently waiting for her, a blanket laden with swords and shields at his feet.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, aware but unable to control the dumb grin on her face.

“Morning,” he responded with a similar smile. He whipped out the hand that had been tucked behind him, revealing a steaming cup of tea. “For you.”

“Ah, thank you,” she accepted his gift. “Though I’m dying for a coffee.”

“But the healers don’t recommend it-” Cullen interrupted, and Lavellan’s eyebrows rose at his knowledge of that.

“- in my condition, so tea it is,” she finished, sipping the strong brew. He must’ve had it brewed long just for her.

“So first, I thought you might want to check out each of the shields to see which you’re most comfortable with.”

“I can tell you that I’m uncomfortable with any shield,” she retorted.

Cullen guffawed. “Did you really expect to use that sword for the next several months?”

“I intend to. I’ve always wielded a two-handed weapon,” she defended herself.

“That may be so, but the healers say you should avoid-”

“Enough with the healers,” she demanded, her tone sharp.

“I wanted to ensure whatever we worked on was compliant with their advice. I haven’t trained any pregnant women before,” Cullen explained, reddening.

Lavellan was touched by the effort he had made, and her annoyance evaporated somewhat, but she was still determined. “How about this - let’s duel. I win, I keep my longsword. You win, I’ll try to learn how to use one of those,” Lavellan challenged, gesturing to the shields with her lip curled in distaste.

“It would not be honorable to duel you in your condition,” Cullen exhaled.

“Are you not here to fight with me?”

Cullen reluctantly acquiesced, and he picked up his sword and shield. Lavellan sat her half-empty teacup on the blanket and unsheathed her own sword. It was still early, and the area was clear. No spectators today. Her advisors thought it best that she train in secret and hide her pregnancy as long as possible, to avoid intelligence of her condition landing in the enemy’s clutches.

“3...2...1… go!” Cullen called, and Lavellan rushed him, slamming her sword in a downward strike. She felt something pull in her belly, and she resisted the urge to stop their duel immediately. It was probably fine, and there was no way he’d allow her to continue with her longsword if they paused. Cullen parried with his shield and didn’t budge. 

With a grunt, Cullen lifted his shield suddenly, throwing her sword off of it, and Lavellan had to rapidly swing her sword in place when Cullen’s lunged at her. She successfully blocked it, but he kicked at her boots, and she nearly lost her footing, struggling to bring her sword to the side to stop him from shield bashing her. Her breathing grew heavy and strained as she resumed her offensive strike, going for a low blow and now kicking him near the groin. He grunted again but did not move. She quickly ducked, bringing her sword across toward his legs, causing him to stumble backwards and trip on the blanket with the shields and swords. He hit the ground hard. Meanwhile, Lavellan felt her stomach tightening again, and she panicked. The heft of her sword threw her off balance, and she staggered, her loose muscles causing her to fall and land right on top of Cullen, who held his blade close to the exposed neck in front of him.

Lavellan was acutely aware that her armored, rounded abdomen was pressed into him. His lips were just below hers, the scar on his mouth taunting her to lean forward and trace it with her tongue, as she had many times before. It would be so easy.

She realized now how awkward this was, lying on top of Cullen without a word, just staring at him. If it bothered him, he did not indicate so. His own face was flushed, either from embarrassment or exertion. However, he appeared to be eying her mouth, so perhaps he was similarly transfixed. “Sorry!” Lavellan blurted, blushing. “I yield.”

She shoved herself off of Cullen’s chest, leaving her straddling his hips. She wondered if he was stiff under his armor before forcing herself to to erase such thoughts. Lavellan went to rise, but discovered that she could not. With her stomach growing more each day, it was becoming difficult to get up from the floor gracefully, especially when encased in her favorite heavy plate. “Shit,” she cursed. “Can you please?”

“Pardon?” Cullen asked, his pitch unusually high.

“Can you please help me up? I can’t,” she huffed.

Cullen blinked at her, but then rose up and pulled himself out from underneath her, dragging her onto her feet next to him. “Right then,” he said, then cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

Lavellan wanted to skulk away, but she braced herself. “Thanks.”

She wiped at her forehead with her glove, finding it damp despite the cool morning air. “I apologize if I have been a bit… awkward with you at times, Cullen.” Words she’d been meaning to say for weeks, indulging in her interactions with him and then replaying them in her head as she tried to fall asleep at night.

“Too awkward?” Cullen scratched his head. “My lady - that is, Lavellan - perhaps then I should apologize to you as well.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. The truth is I care about you,” Lavellan confessed.

Cullen reassured her, “I care deeply for you, too. I mean, I care for you, too.”

Lavellan beamed at him. “That’s good to hear, I must admit.”

Cullen didn’t express her same enthusiasm, and instead his expression became stormy. “I am sorry that you’re going through all of this without your partner… he’s not here?” 

His question caused her insides to knot. “He’s here,” she answered truthfully, throwing caution to the wind.

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s alive in this timeline,” Lavellan explained further. “But we’re not together, and he doesn’t know I’m having his child.”

Lavellan gave him a blinding smile, quelling the thoughts running amok in her brain. She was stringing this Cullen along, walking him down a garden path where he couldn’t see the wildfire burning at the end. He seemed to accept her rationale, or at least sense that she didn’t want to elaborate further. It didn’t stop him from pushing a silverite shield at her chest, and she reflexively caught it. Lavellan groaned.

“I won fair and square,” he laughed. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

Lavellan sighed but held up the shield and accepted the smallsword he passed to her. “So be it.”

* * *

_“Care to battle?” Lavellan asked Cullen, imbuing her voice with as much enthusiasm and friendliness as she could muster._

_The troops he had been working with had just been dismissed when she approached him on the training grounds. Cullen had avoided her like the plague since she had returned, and when he was present, she would feel him watch her every move._

_He didn’t reply to her but continued picking up equipment. Lavellan walked to him as he bent down to retrieve a wooden shield. She was petite, but in this position she had height on him. “I don’t bite,” she added._

_Cullen glared up at her. “You think it’s a joke?”_

_“A joke?” She was confused as to why he was getting angrier._

_“That it has been hard for some people to accept you. You don’t know what we have been through. You don’t know what I have been through,” he retorted, standing up abruptly._

_“You’re right,” she attempted to placate him. “I just hoped we would be able to be friends now.”_

_“Friends?” he laughed bitterly. “Best not make attachments these days.”_

_“If not friends, can we be comrades who work together well?” she asked sincerely. “I need the practice. Can we fight?”_

_Cullen grunted, but he pulled his sword from its sheath and rubbed the pommel, contemplating. “Let’s go.”_

_“Alright then.”_

_Ultimately, at the end of their duel, she ended belly-up in the dirt, his blade at her neck. Cullen could have ended it right there if he wanted to, if he truly thought she was some sort of demon. Breathless, all she could do was stare up at him as he scrutinized her. At last, he offered his hand, which she took as she stood up._

_“You didn’t used to beat me,” she said, huffing._

_“You haven’t had your back up against the wall quite like we have. We’re more desperate, hungrier.”_

_She paused before responding. “I realize I cannot understand what it must have been like.” Lavellan inhaled deeply to regulate her breathing. “I’d like you to train me, if you’ll have me.”_

_Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll train you.”_

* * *

In the mess hall later, Lavellan sat alone, her muscles sore and her clothes soaked through from a thoroughly challenging training session. Her head was down toward her bowl of oatmeal, not acknowledging anyone streaming in for their daily breakfast, until Dorian dared to approach her. He greeted her, then reversed course and wrinkled his nose. She gave him her very best death glare, but he shrugged and sat down opposite her nonetheless. “So have you told the papa-to-be?” he inquiring, casually stirring the gruel in front of him.

“Dorian, do I deserve an inquisition first thing in the morning?” she replied, putting down her spoon and acting as if she were leaving.

“Stop! Stay,” Dorian whined. “Well, now I know that you didn’t tell him.”

“I didn’t. It’s not exactly the easiest conversation to have. _Sorry I didn’t tell you months ago, but I was in a romantic relationship with your future self, and I’m having your baby_.”

Dorian frowned. “I know it’s not easy. But Cullen’s my friend, too. I can’t sit by forever while you lie-“

“- omit.”

“Fine, while you omit the truth. What are you going to do when a round-eared baby with curly blond hair pops out in a few months?”

“I’ll tell him by then.” Lavellan rolled her eyes. “I just need to find the right moment.”

“Cullen would have been disappointed that you hadn’t already,” he remarked, hesitating a bit at words he surely knew would wound.

Lavellan swallowed a lump in her throat. “That’s harsh.”

“I’m sorry. You’ve put yourself in a challenging position, and I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

“How’s Iron Bull?” Lavellan changed the subject, hoping to move away from a difficult topic.

Luckily, Dorian went along with her and winked. “Let’s just say things are going swimmingly.” He shoved his bowl away from himself despite having never taken a bite. “It’s interesting. I can see how it would be difficult for you with you-know-who. It’s like the mystery’s gone? Like you’re living a do-over? I feel that way with a lot of people now. That’s why I’m always talking to you. But with Iron Bull, it’s almost all new. It’s thrilling. I don’t have to think about then,” he gestured with his hand in the air, referring to the future they had known.

“But you watched him die,” Lavellan stated bluntly. The deaths of her friends, including Bull’s, continued to haunt her dreams.

“Yes, but he’s alive now. You must keep up with the present, dear, or you’ll drive yourself mad,” he said softly.

Whatever Lavellan was about to say was interrupted when Sera joined them. She greeted Lavellan by rubbing her baby bump. “Growing a watermelon, ain’t ‘cha?”

“Thanks, Sera,” she deadpanned.

“Hardly the most appropriate thing to say to an expectant mother,” Dorian chastised Sera.

At that moment, Vivienne happened to stroll by and paused to add her opinion. “Impish child,” she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for the table to hear. Sera sneered and scurried away. “My dear Taissa, you are becoming ever so radiant. Are you not thrilled for the upcoming ball? Perhaps there will be a suitor to charm you and resolve your predicament.”

“Vivienne-” Dorian jumped in, but Lavellan wasn’t going to let it go.

“My predicament.” Venom dripped from Lavellan’s words. 

Vivienne was oblivious. “A child out of wedlock! You’re an elf, but still - oh, Blackwall, do come here.”

Blackwall, who had finished his meal at another table, looked like a cornered halla and quickly departed the hall.

Vivienne sighed. “He could’ve been a somewhat suitable escort.” She tapped her finger to her chin as she pondered. “Of course, the Commander would do in a pinch as well.”

Lavellan shot up from her seat. “I have a blasted dress fitting to go to,” she bit out and turned on the spot without clearing her dishes, but thought better of it. Lavellan picked up the dirty bowl and addressed Vivienne, “For what it’s worth, I’m a widow, technically. My baby is no bastard. Not that it would matter if they were.”

She walked away without another glance or word. Faintly, she heard Vivienne bombard Dorian with follow-up questions.


	6. Chapter 6

A picturesque sunset framed the opulent Winter Palace as the carriage holding the Inquisition's delegation arrived. Lavellan was enchanted by the architecture; she had a soft spot for historical buildings.

“Like what you see?” Leliana teased her.

Lavellan twisted away from the carriage’s window to face her advisors, all dressed in formal uniforms of boxy, militaristic red jackets, muted trousers, and tall black boots. Josephine had said the red was meant to draw attention to the Inquisition and show their might, but frankly, Lavellan disliked the bold color. Unfortunately, she was also engulfed in fabric of the same hue, despite not being in a matching uniform. To obscure her pregnancy, Josephine had a dress commissioned for her. It had a high neck, fell to the floor, and was construed of voluminous tiers of chiffon ruffles. Josephine had assured her that it was the height of Orlesian couture, and maybe it would have been on a willowy human. Lavellan felt like a ginormous frilly cake, and the bright red only highlighted the hilarity of the proportions.

Josephine observed her smoothing the ruffles down on her dress. “You look beautiful, Lavellan - doesn’t she, Cullen?” Josephine nudged him.

“What - oh, yes,” Cullen stammered, pulled from whatever he had been daydreaming about. Lavellan rolled her eyes at their compliments, but Cullen had caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach. Or rather, had caused the baby to kick her.

A servant - an elf, she noted - opened the carriage door, and Cullen stepped out first to help the ladies down. More specifically, he helped Lavellan out so she didn’t tumble to the ground. Steep steps led to the palace entrance. Afraid she would lose her balance in her getup, she kept her hand on Cullen’s forearm as they made their way up. 

Of course, everything spiraled downward from there as they always did. Gaspard welcomed them and alleged that Briala would disrupt the negotiations. What unraveled was a typical Orlesian political shitshow that led her to somehow determining the ruler of Orlais. Before all that, however, was her entry into high society.

When the caller had announced her arrival and introduced her to the court, Lavellan tuned out her surroundings. Her ears rang as masked revelers dropped their conversations, stopped sipping their cocktails, and stared at the Herald of Andraste - an elf with a _vallaslin_ and a ridiculous dress. Who was she fooling?

The Inquisition needed the court’s approval, so in between investigating, exploring, fighting, and evading traps, she had to plaster on a fake demure smile and mingle among the whisperers. Their words were barbed, and their pleasant expressions were a façade. At one point, she grew tired of the backhanded compliments and sought refuge by Solas, who stood alone near a gilded punchbowl.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” Solas greeted her. “I should move. If another _sh_ _emlen_ asks me to pour him some punch…”

Lavellan cursed under her breath and leaned against the wall near him. “I’d rather fight a dragon than be here. I’d even take 3 dragons, actually.”

“Don’t listen to whatever they have to say,” Solas said, heat in his voice.

She made a noncommittal noise and went to ladle some punch into a glass, but thought better of it. “They’re so spiteful,” she confided to Solas.

“But they will never hold the power that we do,” Solas replied, capturing her gaze.

“Is it too much to ask for equality?” she whispered earnestly.

“Change requires radical revolution.”

“Well, my plate is full enough with Corypheus,” she sighed, shuffling her feet. “My hips are killing me, not to mention my feet,” she complained.

Solas moved closer to her side, and his hands came to hover at her lower back. Lavellan was about to ask what he was up to when she felt cool, soothing magic flow through her achy bones. She groaned in relief. “Thank you, Solas.”

Just then Dorian broke through the crowd and stormed forward. Dorian’s determined expression faltered, and he quirked his brow at Lavellan. Solas stepped aside as she jumped away from his touch.

“What is it, Dorian?” she asked.

“I was going to ask how you are doing, but more urgent matters await. Our dear Commander is being swarmed,” he replied, pointing to the balcony and sipping from his drink. A horde of women had formed a tight circle, with Cullen’s head peaking at the center.

“Great, so he has many admirers,” she said sarcastically.

“And? He’s probably dying up there and would appreciate an intervention.”

“Ha!” Lavellan choked out a laugh. “What about you? I’m hardly fit for charming Orlais’s most eligible bachelorettes.”

 _"Fasta vass_! You are impossible! Just do it!” he gently tugged at her gloved wrist. She glanced back at Solas, who had his head bowed.

“Fine! If you’ll leave me alone,” she grunted as he propelled her forward, leading her to the staircase. Lavellan stepped up carefully, arriving on the higher level to find many women in elegant jewel-toned satin gowns and gleaming metallic masks. They were fervently chatting amongst each other and flirting with their prey, who was as flustered as she had ever seen him. He was stuttering, and he sounded incredibly exasperated.

Lavellan picked up her skirt and nudged through the crowd, dispensing apologies as she worked her way to the center. She saw the sharp glances through the slits of the masks and heard the flurry of hushed gossip.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen exhaled when she had made it in front of him. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Lavellan arched her brows. “You are very popular tonight,” she commented lightly.

“Not through any choice of mine!” he exclaimed, rubbing vigorously at the back of his neck. He was going to wear his skin raw at that rate. “I’m trying my best, but-”

“It sort of gets to you,” she finished. “Me, too.”

The ladies had started to thin out around them, but there were a few groups remaining. Maybe her presence had done some small good.

“You’re also drowning in propositions?” Cullen asked, his tone betraying his curiosity.

“No,” she chuckled. “Hardly. I’m afraid my only saving grace here is my ability to converse at length about chevaliers of yore.”

Lavellan's attention was drawn to the whispers she could pick up on in the background.

“Are they together?”

“Of course not, look at her-”

“That bald elf was practically all over her-”

“Clearly knocked up. I mean, that dress.”

“You know they can’t keep their legs together.”

“And she’s the Herald of Andraste?”

“Well, she probably does spend a lot of time on her knees…”

The pointed tips of Lavellan’s ears burned. Though they spoke falsehoods, she was ashamed.

Cullen frowned at her. He must’ve been listening, too. What did he think of her?

“I’m… I’m… I’m going to visit the ladies’ powder room,” she murmured, turning on her heels as the women parted, leaving a clear path for her. She didn’t stop when Cullen repeatedly called her name.

“That’s enough!” he roared at the tittering admirers, and Lavellan continued to flee, practically flying down the stairs.

It wasn’t until the end of the night that she saw him again. Lavellan had been avoiding Cullen out of embarrassment. Her dress torn, her feet bloody, and a bruise here and there, she meditated on an empty balcony. The air was refreshing on her skin after the night’s exertions. Any hopes of quieting her mind were dashed when she heard Cullen’s unmistakable heavy footsteps behind her.

“Lavellan-” he called breathlessly.

“Inquisitor,” she corrected, stopping him in his tracks. She could hear him take a deep breath.

“Those vile women-” he continued.

“-are entitled to their opinion, and Creators know it’s probably what most of Orlais, nay, most of Thedas thinks,” she interrupted, facing him now. “It’s not anything I haven’t experienced before, just at a much grander scale.”

Cullen shook his head vehemently. “Not everyone thinks that way. You have your supporters. I hope you don’t think I believe those things.”

“So it’s okay that some humans treat elves like shit?” she asked rhetorically. 

“No, of course not,” Cullen retorted, frustrated as he folded his arms and then unfolded them again. “It’s completely unfair and something must be done about it. I’ve made a mess of this, haven’t I? I wanted to say I’m sorry about what those so-called ladies were saying.”

Lavellan steeled herself. “That I’m a slut and tarnish the image of Andraste irrevocably? That elves mate like wild animals?” she thundered quietly so that her voice would not carry inside.

Cullen’s skin turned violet. “I would never-”

“That the child is Solas’s because who else would deign to sleep with me?” Lavellan trembled with fury, but also felt guilty for having taken it out on Cullen. She spun away from him, but rather than walk away from her, he came closer, taking a spot at the railing not far from her. Neither spoke, and just when she considered leaving, fire no longer in her veins, he broke the silence.

“The prejudice is abhorrent. As for who would be attracted - I mean, interested in you… I’m sure there are many,” Cullen said softly, surprisingly still. “And Solas has aided us greatly, is a talented mage, and if he is the father, and you chose him and love him, and he treats you well, then damn their words and live your life.”

She was stunned speechless. Could he have thought she was in a relationship with Solas? He did really listen to those Orlesians’ lies and assumptions, and the fire was stoked again.

“The father is not Solas,” Lavellan seethed. “I meant what I said the other day. About liking you.”

Cullen sighed. “I did not intend to offend. I merely wanted to give you an out. You had said your partner is out there somewhere, and I don’t want to hold you back. I’m a recovering lyrium addict and disgraced former templar, and you’re you.”

“I’m me?” she questioned, her temper deflated.

“The most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he stated with transparent honesty.

Lavellan snorted, pressed her back into the railing, and looked through the glass windows of the palace. “I used to read stories about princesses and balls when my clan wasn’t looking. And here I am at a ball, and I’m the laughingstock.”

At that Cullen strode to her, his palm outstretched. “Let’s end the ball on a high note, then. Dance with me.”

“You can’t dance,” was her blunt answer, but Cullen didn’t drop his hand.

“I may have asked Jospehine to teach me a little,” Cullen admitted sheepishly.

Lavellan took his hand, and together they moved to the center of the balcony. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, and his went to her hips, for her waist was nonexistent these days. “Why?” she asked with curiosity.

“I wanted to dance with you tonight. I thought it would make you happy,” Cullen confessed, his head above her.

She brought her hands closer, moving to connect them behind Cullen’s neck. Doing so brought her closer to him, his hands now at her lower back. She slowly laid her head to rest on his chest, taking refuge in the warmth that emanated from him. Cullen led them through the simple dance he had learned, the only sounds being their footsteps and the steps he whispered under his breath.

When their dance ended, they did not part. As the moonlight illuminated his face above her, she tilted her head up at the same time he looked down. Each crossed the distance, meeting in the middle with a chaste peck. Their lips were gentle against each other, and when neither retreated, they deepened the kiss and pressed their bodies together. Thankfully, no one barged out on the balcony and interrupted their blissful moment. Ever the gentleman, he broke apart their embrace after a while and noted that they should get some rest. Cullen escorted her to her guestroom and wished her goodnight. Awake in bed, as she recalled the hateful musings she overheard during the night, she tried to brush them aside with the memory of this Cullen’s kiss.

* * *

_"Dance, dance!” Josephine chanted, clapping her hands to the rhythm of Leliana’s song._

_Lavellan froze, but before she knew it, Cullen had taken her hand and dragged her into the middle of the room._

_From the eaves were draped garlands of local flora, which had been crafted by some of the refugees at Jospehine’s request. The decorations added a touch of festivity to the small surprise reception she had planned for the newly married couple._

_The room held only the Inner Circle, who all cheered for the bride and groom. They had only told Cassandra and Dorian, who had acted as witnesses and officiants, but obviously word had spread. Cassandra read the traditional Andrastian passages, and Dorian had gracefully attempted the elven ones that Lavellan had written down for him. They had selected a ceremony location far from camp for discretion: a cliff with a view that was better than most in such a desolate landscape._

_Lavellan couldn’t recall hearing Leliana sing before, and she was surprised by her beautiful voice. Cullen refused to let her become distracted, however._

_“I can’t dance for the life of me,” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin. “But dance with me?”_

_Lavellan had not expected any fanfare after their quiet wedding, and she was a little shell-shocked at the attention. She had wanted to keep the matter private, as it hardly seemed appropriate to be celebrating or publicly declaring commitment to a relationship with someone from another timeline. But she couldn’t deny Cullen a dance._

_As the two stumbled along, the audience cheered, and her heart warmed to see her usually serious, withdrawn husband so jovial._


	7. Chapter 7

During the journey back to Skyhold, Lavellan contemplated the events of the ball at the Winter Palace. What was undeniable was that she was in love with Cullen once again. Despite her mercurial nature, he had not shied away from her. She remembered when she used to be so wide-eyed, open, and kind, and wondered how Cullen could still like her the way she was now, all sharp edges. The Cullen in the future shared more similarities with her, and looking at his present self, she saw a bit of the old her in him. Maybe she needed that to soften her insecurities and heal the trauma.

What was also certain was that Lavellan had to speak with Cullen; he was not aware that the child she carried was his. The last several months had been a lie of sorts, and any special moments they had shared were tarnished by the fact that it was to some degree a ruse. How could he truly consent to a relationship with her if she had not been disclosing everything? Lavelllan felt she had manipulated him. Worse yet, in all likelihood, she and her baby might not survive this war, and he would be unnecessarily devastated by the attachment she had sown with him. 

When others asked how she was doing on the ride home, Lavellan brushed them off. Cullen’s unusually sunny demeanor faded as she distanced herself. Dorian pestered her, and Solas showed some concern. She couldn’t speak to them because she was solely focused on doing what she thought was right as soon as they returned. She contemplated how exactly to phrase it and played through the scenarios in her head. Dorian had been correct, and she could not continue like this forever.

The first stop at Skyhold was a brief meeting at the war table, where the events of their trip to Orlais were reviewed. Everyone was drained and eager to return to their chambers. At the end, Lavellan asked if she could speak to Cullen alone, and Leliana and Josephine departed with no further comment. Cullen remained at the edge of the table, his expression neutral but guarded. “You wished to speak with me?”

“Yes, I had planned on it,” she answered him. “Although, I was hoping we might speak privately, away from any possible prying ears.”

Cullen frowned slightly. “I suppose we could go outside the walls, and I can have a few guards trail us should there be any trouble-”

“No, just you and me.” Lavellan sighed. “You’ll likely prefer it that way.”

Cullen’s mouth turned further downward, but he gestured toward the door and followed her out through the room and eventually through the main gate of Skyhold. Passerbys greeted them, and the soldiers at their posts asked where they were heading, but no one seemed too curious or concerned about their trek down the mountainside. Lavellan walked several hundred yards away from the towering walls. Her winter cloak was keeping her warm to an extent, but the wind bit at her exposed flesh. She was jealous of Cullen’s fur mantle, but when he offered his coat to her a minute later, she politely declined, despite his protesting for the health of her unborn child. Little did he know it was their unborn child, and once upon a time, his mantle had been hers.

At last, Lavellan paused at a boulder near an alcove and offered Cullen a seat on the rock. She insisted that he sit down.

“Where to begin?” Lavellan muttered to herself. Unconsciously, she rested her arms on her belly, as she often did lately. More loudly and clearly, “About the future…”

“Yes?” He patiently encouraged her to continue, but she could tell he was fighting to maintain steadiness in his tone.

Lavellan gathered her strength. “You see… I wanted to talk to you… about us.”

A beat. “Us.” Cullen’s skin began to flush.

“The thing is…” Lavellan paused. She reached down the neck of her armor and clothing laying underneath, emerging with a necklace in her palm. It was the lucky coin that Cullen had given to her.

Cullen wore a quizzical look. “That looks like a lucky coin I have.”

Her fingers closed around the lucky coin, stuffing it back under armor for safekeeping. “It’s his,” she replied. “The would-be future you.”

“I see.” Cullen’s face was blank.

“I am sharing this with you because he would have wanted me to. I haven’t been completely transparent with you. The truth is you gave me this coin as a gift when we were wed.”

Cullen reddened and was sputtering like a candle in the wind. “W… wed? You were married… to me.”

“Married to him, yes,” she answered carefully.

“Why did you not say anything earlier? Why has no one said anything?” he questioned, his brow furrowed, exasperation beginning to creep into his voice.

“I only disclosed what I thought would be relevant to the Inquisition's objectives,” Lavellan explained. “I was going to tell you after we closed the Breach in Haven, but then Haven fell, and I found out about the baby, and it became too much.”

“I… I… that is… I have so many questions,” Cullen stammered, frustrated, his eyes staring into the distance and not at her.

“I am sure that you do. But alas, I do not think it wise to elucidate for you the matters of my relationship with that Cullen,” she replied, her tone formal. “That was then. Things are different now.”

“Then why tell me at all?” Cullen asked. He was now looking straight at her, and she could feel anger radiating off of him.

“I loved you more than anything, and I love you now,” she found herself spilling the words, hoping he would understand.

“So… the baby is mine?” It had finally dawned on Cullen, and his eyes widened.

“Yes. His. Yours,” Lavallan confirmed, afraid of how he would absorb the news. She was scared he would feel obligated, but at the same time, she did not think she could survive his rejection of her and their child. “Don’t worry, you do not need to act as the father.”

Cullen appeared wounded by her words, as his face pinched. “The child will share my blood. Our blood.”

“Which is partly why I told you now, so you are not surprised when the babe arrives. Also, because I must apologize,” she continued. “I have taken advantage of you. It has been a source of comfort, the affection we have shared. But I came into it having had a relationship with you that you were not privy to. That Cullen was not the same as you. His decisions should not impact you. There is free will.”

“I’m aware,” Cullen added drolly. 

“Then we’re in agreement.” She meant to end the conversation, but he continued speaking.

“What are we agreeing to?”

“Hopefully, you can forgive me, and we can maintain a professional relationship,” she replied, spinning to face away from him.

Cullen grunted but said nothing at all.

Lavellan was relieved that he could not witness the sole tear that escaped as she squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s all. I’m going back now.”

Lavellan trudged through the mud, returning to Skyhold. Cullen remained behind her, his boots audibly squelching through the terrain, but he did not address her further or attempt to catch up to her.

* * *

_Lavellan barged into his tent, excited to reunite with her love after several weeks of separation. Cullen and a small group of soldiers had been clearing out nearby camps of Venatori. She had been worried about him, and he had not replied to the letters she had sent via raven. Admittedly, she had written him quite a few. “Cullen! I heard you were back. Why didn’t you send a message for me or stop by?”_

_Cullen’s back was to her, and he was hunched over on the end of his bed. He didn’t answer her, but instead moved to sit up straighter. Cullen stopped suddenly and hissed in pain._

_“Are you injured?” Lavellan asked, her pitch rising._

_“It’s nothing,” he gasped out, peeling up his shirt to touch the bruised flesh at his side._

_“That’s not nothing! Have you seen a healer or surgeon?” She did not intend to speak so sharply, but it was how it came out._

_“Yes, and it’ll be fine.”_

_She walked to him, and when she went to examine the contusion herself, he flinched away and said, “Don’t. You don’t need to worry about me.”_

_“How can I not?”_

_He ignored her response. “We should end things. It’s not healthy for us. You’re going back to where you belong. I don’t want to be a distraction.”_

_Lavellan stilled, and the air rushed out of her. “Are you breaking up with me, Cullen Rutherford?”_

_When he wouldn’t answer her, she stormed out, but not before whispering, “Coward.”_

* * *

Dorian was the first to check up on her. Lavellan had been holed up in her quarters for over 24 hours, and it was apparently enough to alarm whomever had summoned him. He found her in the fetal position on her bed, tangled in her quilt with a fortress of pillows surrounding her. Lavellan must have looked like death warmed over, for her eyes stung from weeping, and she could feel tightness on her cheeks where the tears had dried. The mattress sunk as Dorian took a spot near her. “What happened, my dear? I’ve been told you won’t come out of your cocoon. Does it have anything to do with why Cullen cancelled our chess match this morning?”

The mention of Cullen’s name caused her to sniff reflexively, ready to sob again. “I told him.”

“It’s good that you got that off your chest. I’m a little surprised that it seemed to have gone… worse than I expected. To be fair, it is a lot to take in, ” he replied diplomatically. 

“He didn’t say anything!” she cried, muffling herself with a pillow.

“He had no reaction whatsoever?” Dorian was disbelieving.

“Not exactly. After I asked him to forgive me and asked if we could maintain a professional relationship.”

“So… did you end that little dalliance you had going on? What about the baby?”

“I told him he needn’t concern himself.”

Dorian ripped the pillow out of Lavellan’s clutches, and his stare was not unlike Cullen’s from the previous day. “Is that what you wanted?”

She bit her lip, knowing Dorian would be flabbergasted by her actions. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to force him into making me an honest woman or something. You know him.”

Dorian sighed. “And if he wants to be with you and be a part of the child’s life only out of his own volition? Isn’t that even a slight possibility?”

“He didn’t say so,” Lavellan whispered, picking at a thread on her bedding.

“He could’ve been stunned out of his wits, or maybe he felt like you were pushing him away.”

She absorbed his words and stopped her fidgeting. “I wanted him to be with me for the right reasons. But I’ve gone about this wrong, haven’t I?”

“There isn’t a Tevene etiquette book on things like this. You’re doing the best you can, I suppose.”

Lavellan huffed and grabbed back a pillow to hug. Dorian stayed by her side, telling anyone who came by that they were not to be disturbed, but they would need some chocolate - and wine, but just for him.


	8. Chapter 8

For a few weeks, Lavellan tried to catch Cullen in his office, but he was never there. Traveling, according to Leliana. Something to do with red templars. She wondered what he was up to, if he was safe. She also just wanted to speak with him again, even if he was angry. She missed him.

Finally, one day when she was summoned to the war table, Cullen was present. Her heart skipped a beat. She wished he would raise his head so she could look him in the face, but he seemed to be deliberately avoiding her. From Lavellan’s vantage point, she noted he was pale and perhaps thinner.

Cullen informed Leliana, Josephine, and her about what he had been working on. During his absence, he had been tracking red templars and searching for information on Samson. Cullen wanted to raid his alleged camp. At the mention of Samson’s name, Lavellan’s blood ran cold. She had not been aware of what exactly Cullen had been occupied with. He must’ve poured himself into it after their last conversation. 

She declined to join the raid. No one commented on her decision, although Leliana gave the slightest frown and Cullen glanced up for a second. It was decided that Cullen would take some of the army and her companions to the Shrine of Dumat, and then Lavellan was dismissed, as the others wanted to discuss other business. Once again she lost a chance to reconnect with Cullen.

The following morning, Lavellan went to the gates to send them off, hoping to steal a moment alone with Cullen. However, he gave her no opportunity, as he busied himself with last-minute preparations. As Cullen mounted his horse, she stepped up beside him. Upon close inspection, she saw the dark purple below his eyes.

“Cullen,” she called out to him.

“Inquisitor,” he responded formally, and she expected no less.

“I have been wanting to talk to you. Could we when you return?” Lavellan practically begged.

He trembled ever so slightly. She knew the lyrium withdrawal must have been hitting him hard, even though his facial expressions gave nothing away. “We can discuss the mission outcome upon my return,” he replied stiffly.

“I didn’t mean about that,” she huffed. Lavellan turned and noticed that others were waiting on Cullen, watching the two of them with disinterest.

“I best be off.” Cullen picked up the reins and had his horse circle around.

“Please be careful,” she whispered.

He nodded at her and followed the group out of the gate, leaving her standing forlornly in their wake.

* * *

_ It could have been a day or a year. Lavellan had lost all sense of time in her windowless cell. She was so tired and craved the embrace of sleep, but the pain would never allow her to fully lose consciousness. It was always there, sharp, gnawing at her mind. She could think of little else. _

_ Lavellan had stopped drinking the water they brought her. Her eyes stung, devoid of moisture, and swallowing was near impossible. Occasionally, someone forced water down her throat. After all, Corypheus wanted her alive. She had to last until his arrival. _

_ If Lavellan had to die in this world, this was one of the worst ways she had imagined. Caught by red templars led by Samson, alive but badly injured, awaiting Corypheus to end her or use her Anchor for whatever he wanted. This was the end of the rope for her. _

_ If Lavellan had any hope of a rescue, she would have tried to retain as much strength as she could. Instead, she prayed to whomever was listening that she may perish before the Elder One made an appearance. _

_ It was rather difficult to hear, or at least process her environment, so when something suddenly grabbed her and dragged her to the wall, she was startled but did not scream. Lavellan was beyond screaming at that point, even as the rough movement jostled fractured bones. _

_ Lavellan became more aware of her surroundings when she realized she was being pulled through a hole in the wall that was not there when she had first been thrown in the cell. It was claustrophobic in the tunnel, and she was pressed against the earth, but her abductor did not slow. She assumed a friend, not a foe, but she could not tell and did not care one way or the other, as long as she wasn’t buried in a tunnel collapse or left to rot with the red templars and Corypheus. _

_ There was actually light at the end of the tunnel, and it blinded her. She gasped, and maybe she yelled, for she was lifted from the soil and someone placed a hand over her mouth. _

_ “We’re here, we have you.” Lavellan recognized his voice and hoped it was not an illusion. _

* * *

Samson wasn’t at the Shrine of Dumat, but Cullen did discover a weakness in his armor. A theory they would need to put to the test because Corypheus and his followers were descending upon the Arbor Wilds to acquire an Eluvian for their nefarious purposes.

As Lavellan stood by the war table and listened to Cullen’s report, her hand went to rest at her stomach protectively. 

“Something the matter?” Cullen asked, pulling her from her flashback of Samson. She had tried to bury the memory, but current events had brought it to the surface. Lavellan dropped her hand, which shook despite her best efforts. At least Cullen had addressed her directly, rather than ignore her completely.

“I must admit I’m apprehensive about encountering Samson,” she confessed.

“We know how to destroy his armor. You will have the support of your companions, our army, and the mages. I have every confidence that we can take Samson down,” Cullen attempted to reassure her.

“I know this,” she sighed. “But Samson and I have a bit of a history, and it’s an unpleasant one.”

“Inquisitor...“ Josephine trailed off, at a loss.

“What?” from Cullen.

Leliana raised an eyebrow, most likely because Lavellan had opted to not include the incident in her original report.

Lavellan decided to press forward and recount her ordeal, as difficult as it would be. “Some soldiers and I were ambushed by red templars while assisting villagers in a hotly contested area. Most of us were captured, while a few escaped and ran to inform those back at our base. Samson and other red templars held us hostage, waiting for Corypheus to arrive. In the four days we were there, everyone was executed except for me. I… endured. Forces led by Cullen and Leliana arrived for a stealth rescue. And I survived my injuries.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything when we were starting to track Samson? When I told you of him?” Cullen wondered aloud, and each word grew sharper. “How much more are you hiding from us?”

“I doubt it is easy for her to share about this,” Josephine scolded.

“Inquisitor - Lavellan - please let us know whatever we can do to support you.” Leliana stared at her straight on, her face uncharacteristically open. “You know I’m here to talk if you would like, of course. Any detail you can share might help.”

Lavellan agreed. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to jot down anything of relevance that I can recall, but we should begin preparations for our journey to the temple.”

“As you wish.” Leliana left the room, Josephine close behind her after she warmly rested a hand briefly on Lavellan’s shoulder. Cullen remained, his arms spread wide over the table to support him, his head hung low. The door of the war room closed with a thud, and Cullen spoke. “I don’t mean to accuse you of withholding information. I’m just-“

“That’s fair,” Lavellan said quietly.

Cullen did not reply, but she found herself wanting to tell him everything. “We got married shortly afterward. I was never so scared in my entire life after Samson kidnapped me. Marriage was a foreign concept to me, and then suddenly I just wanted something solid, something I could take comfort in should the worst come to pass. I thought I was going to die in a dungeon and the world would die with me.”

“I can’t imagine… other than what I experienced in my first Circle.”

“Lake Calenhad.” In the future, Cullen had been hesitant to tell her about the nightmares that persisted many nights, but he did eventually share with her the darkest pieces of his history.

“Yes,” Cullen replied. “I guess I’m not surprised you know all about that. But I digress… continue?”

“You were a wreck after I was rescued,” Lavellan laughed bitterly. “When I came back to myself, I had never seen you look that way. My heart twisted. And then you proposed and I accepted immediately.”

“I’m sure I didn’t know what I would have done without you.” Cullen’s eyes bored into her.

“You would have continued to do your duty. It’s what you did after I disappeared in that timeline. You have more strength than you give yourself credit for.”

He shook his head. “Nothing in comparison to yours.”

Lavellan smirked, though she felt hollow inside. “We shall see after the Arbor Wilds if that is remotely true. Hopefully, my knees will not buckle in Samson’s presence. They never did heal properly.”

Cullen blanched. “My lady, I will ensure nothing happens to you. I wish I had been there to protect you then.”

“Then your head would have rested next to the soldiers’.” Lavellan closed and opened her eyes. “No. It was what it was.”

A moment passed, and Cullen told her, “You don’t have to go tomorrow.”

“We both know that’s not possible,” she responded with regret. “Are you saying that because of what happened or because I’m carrying your baby?”

Cullen tightened a fist. “Because I care about you. Is that so wrong?” 

Lavellan flinched. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be heartless. I have just been afraid to let you in. I wanted to be sure you would be doing it for the right reasons.”

“So you pushed me away. Don’t want me around for your child.” Cullen’s line of sight dropped to her abdomen. His tone was one of sadness rather than anger.

She struggled to remember the speech she had been practicing in the weeks they had been apart. “That’s not it… I’m so sorry I left things that way.”

“It’s fine,” he murmured, but Lavellan knew it wasn’t. “There was something I wanted to give you before, but then… will you come to my office?”

Lavellan was surprised and curious, so she said yes. The two wordlessly exited the war room and strolled to his office, where he lifted a large package from underneath his desk. He placed the parcel wrapped in ram leather on top of the paperwork that covered his workspace. “It’s for you,” he told her and then stepped aside.

“What is this?” Amused, she unfurled the wrapping to reveal the most beautiful shield she had ever seen. It was her favorite color, the deep green of stormheart. It wasn’t an overbearing size, like the shields Cassandra and Blackwall preferred. It was small and circular in shape, and the face of the shield featured a delicate engraved design in the visage of the elven god June, seemingly in honor of Lavellan’s  _ vallaslin _ . It glowed with a soft white light that she recognized as coming from a cleansing rune.

Cullen’s gaze was downcast, and he seemed afraid of her reaction. “It’s a superb cleansing rune. I worked with Dagna to craft it and used some of the materials that you’ve been saving in storage. I apologize for having used them without seeking your permission first. I know you like to hoard the better materials and hate to spend them on yourself, but I thought you should have a shield that suited you.”

“And the design?” she replied, tracing the etching with her finger.

“I consulted with the clan in the Exalted Plains that you won over,” he answered softly. After the events of the Conclave, Lavellan did not have any close connections left in her clan with whom he could communicate.

“It’s beautiful, Cullen. I love it,” she responded with awe. 

Cullen exhaled in relief. “I’m glad. I know you hate shields, so I wanted to try to make the most of it. Keep you and your child safe.”

“Our baby,” Lavellan whispered.

“Pardon, I didn’t catch that?” he asked obliviously.

“Our baby, I said. That is, if that’s what you want,” she answered, trying to be ever so neutral.

The door to Cullen’s office opened with a loud creak, and Lavellan spun sharply toward the intruder. It was a scout, who froze on the spot halfway to Cullen’s desk after it had dawned on him that he had interrupted a private conversation between the Commander and the Inquisitor. Cullen growled.

“Sorry, sir,” the scout apologized, fear evident in his voice. He tiptoed to Cullen’s desk and deposited the scroll he had been carrying, and then stood at attention. 

“Is that all?” Cullen inquired briskly.

“Leliana wanted to meet you with you…” the scout went on.

As he was speaking, Lavellan held her new shield to her chest. She gave a slight bow to Cullen and the scout. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Lavellan, Inquisitor - “ Cullen interrupted.

“Leliana said it was urgent, Commander,” the scout butted in.

“It’s okay. We’ll catch up later. Thank you,” she told Cullen, giving him a small smile before departing with her gift. Cullen sighed and let her go.

Back in her quarters, Lavellan rested the new shield on top of her dresser. She ran her hand along the surface, admiring it and thinking about the man who had it crafted.


	9. Chapter 9

Morrigan was downright rude and dour, and Lavellan was envious of her slim figure that she had no problem displaying. However, her pregnancy stories kept Lavellan entertained as they made their way to the Arbor Wilds. For some reason, Lavellan found it easy to speak with Morrigan, even though she was shut down from time to time.

“So you have raised your son by yourself?” Lavellan asked her as they rode horses side by side.

“‘Twas for the best,” Morrigan answered in her typically curt manner. She then laughed with mirth, “The father of the child…”

When Morrigan did not elaborate, Lavellan found herself filling the silence. “I’m not certain what I’m going to do,” she confessed.

“You’re the Inquisitor.” Morrigan glared at her. “I think you should be able to figure it out. The father leave you high and dry?”

“It’s complicated,” Lavellan exhaled.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and that was the end of that.

After arriving at the Inquisition's forward camp, she caught up with Josephine before gathering her companions to march toward the temple. Along the path, they encountered groups of the Inquisition's forces fighting off a bevy of opponents. Cullen and a few soldiers were battling some red templars and brainwashed Grey Wardens. Lavellan and her companions helped ward them off. At the end of the battle, she was to head north to enter the Temple of Mythal, but she had a case of cold feet.

“Inquisitor, shall we proceed?” Morrigan drawled.

Lavellan wiped the blood off her blade on a bush nearby, and while her attention was elsewhere, Cullen walked to her. She lowered her sword and he hesitated before wrapping her in a brief hug, their bulky armor creating some distance between them. “You’ve got this,” he whispered into her ear.

Cullen quickly stepped away from her, maintaining professional decorum. In the corner of her vision, Lavellan caught Morrigan groaning impatiently, and she swore Solas sighed as well. She ignored them and gave Cullen a nod that hopefully conveyed confidence, but she must have wavered, for he said, “Why don’t we accompany you? I’m not certain how many reinforcements may be within the temple.”

Lavellan knew she should turn him down. It is what she would have done had this been in the past. But in this moment, she accepted in a heartbeat. As much as Lavellan did not want to drag him further into the fray, she would greedily take any support she could garner.

In the temple, their group found Corphyeus and Samson, and they pursued them as red templars attacked. They also found Abelas, an ancient sentinel who guarded the Well of Sorrows. The sentinels fought them once Lavellan refused to negotiate with Abelas, as she wanted to personally ensure that Corypheus did not gain access to the Well. Solas dissented rather vocally, but she did not relent. 

Near the Well of Sorrows, Samson awaited. Lavellan heard a rushing sound and was vaguely aware that Samson was sneering at her, but she couldn’t make out the words he was saying. Cullen grabbed her arm firmly, and the background noise died. “Destroy his armor?” he asked, and she tilted her head in assent.

“Knight-Captain Cullen, so nice to see you. Doing someone’s dirty work again?” Samson taunted.

Cullen growled, “It doesn’t have to be this way, Samson.”

“It’s not too late for you. Embrace red lyrium. Kill the heretic you call Inquisitor.”

“Oh, shut it,” Lavellan yelled and charged at him.

With Samson’s armor weakened, the fight was relatively simple. However, Lavellan was on the receiving end of a strong blow to the shoulder, which knocked her to the ground and caused her to shout. Blood trickled from her neck, a surface wound from the tip of Samson’s sword, but nothing felt broken. Cullen caught a glance of her collapsed with a glove pressed below her chin. His face fell in an instant, but Lavellan mouthed she was okay and forced herself up with a grunt.

Soon enough, Samson was on his knees, and their team had received no serious injuries. Looking down at Samson’s scowl, Lavellan wanted to slit his throat right then and there as the memories flooded her. He goaded her on to do it, but she resisted the urge. The man in front of her had not yet committed those same crimes against her. Samson would be judged back at Skyhold as all captured enemies were.

Lavellan was able to convince the rather intimidating Abelas to let them access the Well. Standing on the precipice of the Well itself, it dawned on her that she did not have a plan. Morrigan fervently argued that she should drink from the Well, as it could provide knowledge that they could use to defeat Corypheus. However, the idea of giving that opportunity to someone who wasn’t an elf bothered Lavellan.

“Solas, will you drink?” Lavellan asked of him.

Solas frowned and heartily refused. “I will not be a servant to Mythal.”

Lavellan had figured he would have wanted to gain that knowledge of their people, even if he would be tied to one of their gods, so she was taken aback. The only option other than Morrigan was Lavellan herself.

“Then should I drink from the Well?” Lavellan pondered aloud.

“No,” Solas replied adamantly.

Lavellan had forgotten Cullen since they reached the Well itself, but her attention was drawn back to him. “Don’t,” Cullen pleaded.

Her stomach fluttered as the baby moved. Maybe they were protesting, too. She was not certain as to how the Well would affect her, and she was never a passionate scholar of her culture. “Right. Morrigan, you should be the one.”

Lavellan hoped it was not a mistake, but like many of the decisions she was called to make as Inquisitor, she had to go with the least worst option and wish for the best.

“I’m going to go check on the troops. I’ll see you back there,” Cullen told her, and she nodded and gave him her thanks before he departed.

Morrigan slowly stepped into the water, heading to the center of the pool. She dropped down under the surface, and the next second, a tidal wave pushed against Lavellan, knocking her down. She panicked, water all around her and heavy armor pinning her down, but the flood dissipated. When she stood back up, the Well was mostly dry, and Morrigan was unconscious on the ground. Lavellan rushed to her side and was able to rouse her, and Morrigan confirmed she was alright. Before they could discuss the Well further, Corypheus appeared in a rage. Frantically, Lavellan searched for an exit; the only way to escape was through the Eluvian.

* * *

Several days had come to pass since Morrigan, Solas, Varric, Iron Bull, and Lavellan had returned to Skyhold via the Eluvian. The remainder of Lavellan’s Inner Circle and a good portion of their troops were still journeying back home. It was odd to see the fortress so empty of people, and Lavellan was lonely. The war was heating up, and childbirth loomed on the horizon, and neither were particularly comforting thoughts for her.

She became breathless quite easily now, so sparring with Iron Bull did not hold much appeal, nor did watching him slam back shots of liquor in the tavern. Morrigan was off making sense of whatever the Well had done to her, and Solas kept to himself. Varric and Lavellan still had a bit of a strained relationship, but she sat down with him in front of a fire in the hall one night, hoping to break bread.

“Scouts reported they saw the gang heading up the mountain,” Varric informed her. He arched a brow. “You’re not running to the gates to greet them?”

Lavellan huffed. “Not worth the exertion. And they’ll be exhausted when they get here and want to head for bed.”

“Not eager to welcome back Curly?” he asked with faux innocence.

“Why would I go seek out the Commander?” she replied, giving nothing away.

Varric shrugged. “No reason, I guess. You two seemed close back there in the temple. He’s a good guy. Hawke used to say… nevermind.”

Lavellan winced. “Varric-“

“Save your words. You’ve said it all before. Forgive me… it’s just hard losing a friend like her.”

“I know a little about loss. I feel for you.” She continued, “I hope I meet Hawke again in a better place.”

“Not anytime soon. Let’s not lose anyone else,” he rasped.

Lavellan held out her hand that had the Anchor, and it emanated green light in contrast to the warm glow of the fire. “I’m afraid the worst is yet to come.”

Varric closed her fingers around her palm, dimming the Anchor. “That’s enough doomsday talk. Now do you want to hear the story of when Hawke fought the Arishok?”

She grinned. “I’ve heard the tale, but I think it will be even better coming from you.”

Lavellan stayed up talking with Varric into the wee hours of the early morning. Her eyes stung and her stomach rumbled, but it was so nice to chat with him and not think about the heavier things that usually occupied her mind. In her sleepy state, she was startled when she noticed Cullen had appeared next to them, still in the attire he had worn on the road.

“Curly,” Varric welcomed him before giving Lavellan a wink. “Time for me to hit the sack.”

Then she was alone with him. Lavellan expected him to take Varric’s spot, but he remained where he was. Cullen glanced around the hall, which was sparsely populated but some returnees had trickled in. “Lavellan, I was hoping to speak with you. Maybe in my office?” Cullen asked shyly.

His tower was several staircases away in the pitch dark of the night, and snow was likely to fall before dawn. She stood up. “Let’s go to my quarters.”

Cullen’s mouth was slightly agape. “Just come on,” Lavellan encouraged him, and he followed her to her room, careful to leave space between them.

Her maid had left a fire going in the fireplace, but Lavellan poured water from a bucket over it. She was burning hot most of the time, and the room was stuffy. She could no longer stand to be in her long-sleeved top and pants.

“Shut the door, please,” Lavellan asked of Cullen, and she went behind a screen to roll down her breeches in privacy. They had been tailored specifically for her, but the lacing still had a way of biting into her skin and leaving indentations. Now in the confines of her bedroom, she shucked her clothes of the day and pulled on a short gossamer nightgown with delicate thin straps and airy silk fabric. Who cared about decorum, she wanted to be comfortable.

Cullen had waited for her by the window that looked out on the balcony, and he apparently did not hear her bare feet carry her across the room. “You wanted to speak with me?” she said softly.

Cullen’s attention was drawn to her, and it did not escape Lavellan that he gnawed at his bottom lip and then cleared his throat. “Yes.”

When he did not continue, she giggled, and that was enough to interrupt his reverie. “I wanted to see you. Back in the Arbor Wilds, we waited for you to exit the temple, and when we went in to investigate after a while, you were gone. We weren't sure what had happened.”

Lavellan frowned. “I’m sorry. We did send ravens upon our arrival here, though.”

“I know,” Cullen sighed. “But before the birds arrived… I was worried.”

She understood how he had felt. During the course of the last few days, her mind had wandered to imagine how he was faring on the road. “Well, now you can see that I am whole. No reason to worry.”

He nodded. “I’m glad.” He hesitated before moving forward, “Have you judged Samson?”

“No, I haven’t yet.” She shifted to cross her arms, warming her shoulders. The topic had brought a chill to the air, at least for her. “Thank you for coming along to the temple. That wasn’t the plan.”

“You would’ve been able to take him down on your own.”

“Still, it was a comfort to have you there.”

Silence fell. She wondered if he really wanted to discuss Samson, or if his being concerned about her well-being was the only reason he ran to her immediately upon his return. “There’s something else I wished to discuss,” Cullen confessed. Ah, there it was. “I’ve thought it over, as I know you wanted me to, and I would like to be in your child’s life, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course, Cullen,” she reassured him.

“As their father?”

She unfurled her arms. “It’s up to you, so yes.”

He gave her a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Alright, Papa,” she joked, and he laughed. 

“Too soon, maybe. I hope I get used to the sound of that.”

“You will, I’m certain. I think you’ll make an excellent father.”

“And you’re going to be a great mother.”

She exhaled, “We’ll see about that.” She still feared she would not have the opportunity. Their enemy was out there, and she had to be on the frontlines, no matter how vulnerable she was.

Lavellan wrapped her arms back around herself, quelling her thoughts. Hopefully, some rest would help. “Is there anything else you wanted to chat about? You must be exhausted.”

He appeared to be on the verge of saying something, as his mouth was ajar, but he closed it. “That was it for now. You’re right, I should let you get some sleep, and I am very much looking forward to a bath.”

She walked him to her door and sleepily rested her head on the doorframe. “Good night, Cullen.”

“Good night, Lavellan.” He stood at the top of the staircase a moment, holding her eyes, before he nodded to himself and descended down the stairs. Lavellan smirked and shut the door. She spun around in her quarters, imagining where a crib might be placed. What characters would hang from the mobile that would float over their child’s head? What color would be the baby’s first blanket? Would Cullen hold their child as they fell asleep in a rocking chair that would look great in the corner?

* * *

_ Everything had been a blur since she had emerged from the earth and out of the red templars’ clutches. Potions were poured down her throat, and healing magic flowed through her, bringing her back to reality for brief flashes. The agony diminished slowly. _

_ When she fully came to consciousness, they were at a small campsite, at some point between where she had been captured and home. Lavellan was on her back, the stars and a harvest moon shining down on her. She blinked, adjusting to her surroundings. If she twisted her head to either side, she saw sleeping bodies on mats. To her right appeared to be Cullen, his head left uncovered by the blanket wrapped around him. _

_ Lavellan did not make a sound, but a nightmare must have been bothering Cullen, for he flipped over to face her and woke with a startled gasp. His eyes flew open, and a second passed before he sat straight up with alarm. “You’re awake?” he whispered loudly. _

_ Her throat was raw, so she did not reply. She noticed he had been sleeping in his armor, which must have been extremely uncomfortable yet necessary, but what caught her attention was a coin on a chain that hung around his neck. He followed her line of sight and touched it. “My lucky coin. I should have given it to you,” Cullen explained, and his voice quivered. “I thought you were dead. Again.” _

_ “I thought so, too,” she managed to croak. _

_ “And to think, one of our last conversations would have been… I’m sorry,” he whispered, his regret painfully evident. _

_ She remained quiet, for while she had been hurt by his actions, it felt like a lifetime ago after the events of the last week. He continued, “I don’t want us to be separated. I didn’t want to be a distraction or another burden to you, but it’s honestly been a struggle without you.” _

_ Lavellan’s lips curled up at the corners. Not too long ago, he had been perfectly fine on his own. Cullen had thought her dead, and then she had returned. Now that she had truly been knocking on death’s door, the experience had frightened her to her core. There wasn’t enough good in her life yet. She hadn’t fully lived. “Same,” she rasped. _

_ That’s all she had the strength to say, and there would be more to talk about later, so she drifted away with the comforting knowledge of her current environment and the people around her. _


	10. Chapter 10

Cullen approached the throne with his shoulders squared, anger propelling him forward. Lavellan’s lips pulled into a thin line. She had expected Josephine to lead the judgment of Samson, as she did for all others. Cullen was too close; Lavellan was, too.

Cullen’s eyes blazed as he recited the charges. It was white noise to Lavellan. She had thought she would feel at peace with Samson in chains before her, with her wielding all of the power. Alas, Samson’s piercing gaze was enough to cause her stomach to drop. Lavellan’s nails dug into the ends of the throne’s wooden armrests.

There was a menu of options before her, but none were quite right. Lavellan was drawn to execution. She imagined it; she lifted her executioner’s sword and brought it down with a swift stroke. Samson would be gone and buried, just as she had buried everything dark that she did not want to ruminate on. But she would be acting out of fear, as she had been all these months. She needed to let the past go.

“Commander Cullen will oversee Samson and question him. Determine if he holds any information that may be of benefit to the Inquisition. Then Dagna will investigate his level of immunity to red lyrium. Perhaps there’s something we could learn there. Then he can serve the Inquisition however the Commander sees fit,” she decreed.

“What?” Cullen exclaimed before snapping his mouth shut, as if he had not realized he had spoken aloud. Samson snarled.

“Samson, this is your chance for redemption. Don’t squander the opportunity; there won’t be another,” she announced and waved at the guards to collect Samson and haul him away. Samson bowed solemnly, an act that took Lavellan by surprise, as she had anticipated venom or resignation. Maybe there was hope yet that things could change.

* * *

A dagger soared through the air to its intended target. Lavellan steeled herself. Cullen was apparently as upset as she had predicted he would be. She had been reluctant to seek him out in his office, where he had been hiding, but she felt the need to justify her decision.

Cullen grasped another dagger, seemingly contemplating whether he would throw that one as well. Lavellan cleared her throat loudly, and Cullen shifted in her direction.

“Cullen, I- “ she started.

“I wasn’t expecting that judgment.” Cullen continued, his tone sharp, “Samson is a monster who led his men to evil, and he had a clear mind when doing so. There are no excuses. The harm he did - he’s irredeemable. Any answers he can provide are likely not worth his life.”

“I’ll take any asset that may be worth a damn. This is war, and if there’s a possibility that Samson may in even some tiny way help turn the tide, then I can’t disregard that.”

Cullen threw the second dagger. “How can you say that after what happened to you?”

“It wasn’t an easy decision,” she explained as she drew closer and noticed his glowering. “Is this about me, or is this because you could have been Samson?” 

Cullen growled and set his hands down on his desk with enough force to rattle a bottle of ink. He twisted away from her, and she knew she had hit the nail on the head.

“You’re not Samson. Some decisions you made may haunt you, but you didn’t go down the same path. There’s no point in obsessing over what may have been. There’s no time. All we can do is focus on what’s happening right now,” Lavellan said, wanting to reach out to touch him, but worrying how we might react in the moment.

Cullen clenched his fist and then loosened it. He muttered, “I’m glad you have such confidence about Samson. I apologize that I have my doubts.”

“Have a little faith in me, at least?” Lavellan asked quietly.

He grimaced with remorse. “I do.”

“I know you’ll keep close watch of him. I thank you for that.” Lavellan stood around, waiting for a response, but Cullen was lost in thought. “I’ll leave you to your… target practice.”

Lavellan exited and gently shut his door, inhaling a deep breath with relief. Frankly, Cullen was being more than a little obstinate, but it could have gone worse.

* * *

Cullen was on edge since the judgment of Samson, but Lavelllan and him had remained cordial. He gave her his reports on Samson without scowling and asked of her well-being with a tender expression across his features. However, they mostly danced around each other in their private conversations, with things left unsaid bubbling under the surface. It wasn’t long before it all boiled over.

Everything was coming to a head with the war, and yet Josephine found it entirely appropriate to present offers of marriage during a war table meeting.

“I’m sorry, excuse me?” Lavellan interrupted as Josephine started discussing the proposals the Inquisition had received. She swiftly glanced at Leliana, who appeared complacent. She had expected Leliana to shoot down the topic out of respect for Lavellan‘s privacy and free agency. Next, she dared to glimpse at Cullen, who was so tense that it looked like he would break his teeth from clenching his jaw so tightly. 

“As I was saying, we have been considering whether it would be wise to pursue an alliance through alternative means. Every resource counts, especially as a future confrontation with Corypheus looms over us. It’s commonplace amongst nobles, and while you were not one before, you are the Inquisitor now, and that holds value,” Josephine explained.

“They know I’m with child, right?” Lavellan asked, baffled.

“Well, yes, word has spread. That likely affected the number of offers we have been sent, but there are still those who take no issue with it, and some even want to help out, as it were.”

“Who are these people?” 

Josephine let the pile of scrolls she had been carrying tumble to the war table. It wasn’t a large heap, but it was more than she had ever expected. “Nobles from here and there. We can read over each, if you’d like. I have a dossier on the candidates.”

Out of nowhere, Josephine dropped a thick book on the table, which landed with a thud. Lavellan wanted to shudder. The weight on her shoulders suddenly grew a thousand times heavier. “Anyone I am acquainted with?”

Josephine placed the feathered end of her pen against her lip while concentrating. “Hmm, I believe you met a few at the Winter Palace.”

“There is a particular duke who is quite charming and handsome,” Leliana commented lightly, with the slightest trace of a smirk.

Lavellan peeked at Cullen, who was now staring intently at the ground. His complexion had paled in the span of seconds. “Surely there is more important business that we should be reviewing?” he complained.

“I certainly think the Inquisitor’s marriage is of import-“ Josephine began to answer, until Lavellan spoke over her.

“I agree with Cullen, I think we should put a pin in this conversation. Now, let’s talk about the latest requisitions. Much more exciting stuff.”

Luckily, the awkward topic of accepting a marriage proposal for the benefit of the Inquisition did not come up again for the rest of their meeting. After it was adjourned, Cullen stormed out of the war room, leaving Lavellan to glare at the rest of her advisors.

“He’s in a foul mood,” Josephine noted about Cullen’s departure as she collected her scrolls.

“I wonder why?” Leliana added without a trace of irony.

Lavellan pinched her brow. “Do I really need to pursue any of these offers?” she groaned.

“That’s ultimately your decision, Inquisitor. It’s personal,” Josephine answered.

“So then no,” Lavellan replied. “I need to go.”

She walked briskly out of the hall, hoping to catch Cullen in his office before he moved somewhere else. Cullen’s office, however, was empty. Rather than retrace her steps, she pushed on the door to the battlement that led to the tavern, thinking that she might as well go visit Cole. To her surprise, Cullen was there, alone on the battlement, leaning over the wall.

“Cullen!” she hollered breathlessly as she strode up next to him. She fought to catch her breath and admired the view from where they stood, the courtyard of Skyhold below them. “I hope you know that I’m not going to accept any of those proposals. It’s a completely preposterous idea.”

Cullen would not meet her eyes. “Josephine and Leliana found the idea worthy of consideration.”

“And what are your thoughts, honestly?” she asked. Lavellan realized he would probably attempt to answer her question in his role as her advisor, so she nipped that in the bud. “Do you still have affection for me, beyond that for the mother of your child?”

He paused before responding. “Even when I was utterly confused, or agitated, by certain things that have transpired, it has not changed my feelings for you.”

His words slowed the rapid pulsing of her heart. “So is that a _don’t marry some noble, I love you_?” she joked.

Cullen turned to her, and he was stoic. Lavellan feared the worst and stiffened. “Don’t marry some noble, I love you,” he replied softly.

“You love me?” Lavellan asked, deadly serious. She thought she had heard him clearly, but she could not stop the doubt that creeped in the far corners of her mind.

“I… do you love me?” Cullen responded hesitantly.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I love you.” 

Lavellan stood on her tippy toes and reached up, clasping at the shoulders of his coat to pull him down to her level. She stole a kiss, and while at first he seemed surprised, Cullen warmed up almost instantaneously and returned her gesture with matched fervor. She melted into him, but they eventually had to come up for air. Lavellan leaned into Cullen, her head nuzzled against his armored chest, and he wrapped his arms around her as they overlooked the hustle and bustle of the interior of the fort below.

“I wish I could spend the day with you,” she told him.

“Me, too. But the reports, and I have a meeting…”

She twisted to face Cullen. “Play hooky with me. Please.”

“Don’t you have…” Lavellan’s puppy dog look must have worked as intended, for he gave up and smirked. “Alright.”

They took refuge in Cullen’s office, and he was able to scare away any messengers with an imitation of the growl he had during his worst bouts of lyrium withdrawal. Giddily, like fools in love, Cullen pulled her toward his desk, where they passionately reclaimed each other’s lips. His hand traced circles on her thigh before it came to rest at her breasts, and she let her fingers roam across his chest and back. Suddenly, Cullen stepped away and proceeded to sweep everything off of his desk onto the floor. Papers fluttered everywhere and a mug cracked. Lavellan stood agape, but not for very long, for Cullen picked her up and laid her down across the cleared surface of his desk. He loomed over her, and they resumed their kissing. Lavellan helped him shrug off his cloak and unbuckle his armor all the while, and then it was his turn to peel off hers. With only their clothes on, she could truly feel the outline of his body pressed against hers, as she ran hand a hand across his muscles. When he tugged at the lacing of her shirt, opening it wide, she could not stop a squeak from escaping her. Lavellan closed the gaping neckline, and Cullen stilled instantly and got off the table. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, and his tone and sudden pallor indicated mortification and shame. “I should have asked first. And if you did want to, I know sometimes it’s not safe… and I’m sorry. I definitely did not want to pressure you…”

Lavellan pushed herself up into a sitting position, clutching her shirt with one hand. “Cullen. It’s safe for me, so I’ve been told. Not that I’ve tried it. I’m a little surprised that you would be fine with it.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Why would it?” 

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I guess a part of me is also nervous because you’ve never been intimate with me before. If we were to have sex now, the first time would be when I’m.... I don’t know how I’m going to feel. And I look like this.”

Lavellan gestured at her face and body. Scars lined her skin from head to toe from numerous injuries sustained here and there, and then there was the other matter of her changed physique. Her cheeks and lips were full, and her nose had widened. Her stomach looked like she had swallowed an enormous melon, and her belly button was now firmly outward. While Lavellan’s chest was the largest it had ever been - she could have skipped a breastband before - so were her legs, which were nearly always swollen these days. That was all to say that she felt extremely unsexy. However, in a cruel twist of fate, her desire burned stronger than ever.

“I think you’re stunning, and that hasn’t changed since I first met you,” Cullen complimented her, blushing even though they had been entangled mere seconds ago. “But whatever we do or don’t do is entirely up to you.”

She fidgeted with the lacing on her top, mulling the idea over. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” Lavellan explained. “I really do. I love you and trust you.”

Cullen gave her a nod and bent to the floor to begin retrieving pieces of their armor that littered the office. He got up and held out her chest plate to her. His expression showed no signs of annoyance, offense, or expectations. His patient understanding further kindled her fire. Lavellan grabbed the chest plate out of his hands to only throw it across the room, where it smacked the wall with a loud metallic clang. Cullen startled, and Lavellan giggled. She jumped up on him, encircling his waist with her legs, and thankfully he caught her despite being unprepared.

As she kissed his neck, he asked with a tremor, “What-”

Her lips moved to his, answering him in between pecks. “Let’s. Do. This.”

“Are you sure you’re sure?” he hesitated.

“Yes,” she responded with enthusiasm, claiming his mouth, but Cullen drew back and lowered her to the ground. She was flooded with disappointment and rejection.

“Stop,” Cullen laughed, running his thumb along her frown lines. “I just thought we might take this upstairs where it’s more comfortable?”

“Oh. Yes,” she answered with a grin. He held her hand as he led her to the ladder to his loft, her heart beating fast.

* * *

Tangled in Cullen’s bed, happy, drowsy and spent, Lavellan felt a sharp kick to the ribs. 

“Ow,” she complained with a chuckle, rolling down the sheet to expose her stomach. She poked back at the spot as Cullen watched through half-lidded eyes. “Do you want to feel?”

Lavellan was embarrassed that she had not offered earlier. He hadn’t asked, but she hadn’t exactly been welcoming either. She reached for his hand and pulled it toward her gently, placing it over her skin. Baby, however, had other plans and made no movement.

“It’s okay, another time,” he mumbled.

She held tight on this hand. “No. Come on, nug. I know you’re listening.”

“Nug?” Cullen laughed. “Do you have other names in mind for her or him?”

“You know everyone keeps asking, but I have been putting off thinking about it. I guess I had hoped we could come up with it together.”

“And you still don’t want to know if it’s a boy or a girl beforehand?”

“No. Leave some mystery.”

She felt a kick or a punch in her lower stomach and quickly moved Cullen’s palm there. The baby relented with another kick, and Lavellan was elated to see Cullen’s eyes widen before he smiled with joy. “Hi, little Hebert or Gertrude-”

“Yeah, we need to talk about names,” she sniggered.

“I’m all ears.” She released his hand from her grip, but he kept it there on her stomach, searching for more movements from their child.


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of knocking woke Lavellan from her slumber. Her eyes shot open, and a brilliant blue sky above greeted her. She gazed in awe and recalled that she was in Cullen’s office, with its damaged roof that she did not mind one bit that morning. 

The knocking would not cease. She rolled over and smiled at the sight of Cullen deep asleep, his curls now frizzy from tossing and turning. Though she hated to ruin the moment, she gently nudged his shoulder. “Cullen, Cullen,” she whispered as loudly as she could.

“Mmm, what is it?” he mumbled, his eyelids still closed. 

“Someone’s at the door.”

“Maker’s breath,” he groaned and slowly began moving his limbs. Suddenly, he leapt out of bed and began rummaging for his clothes on the floor. “Damn!”

“What’s wrong?” Concerned about whatever had startled him, Lavellan sat up and wrapped the sheet around herself.

“Don’t worry about it, just stay here,” he commanded, shoving on his shirt and pulling up his breeches.

Lavellan watched him hurry down the ladder just as she heard the door to his office open.

“Commander? You alright in there? Josephine’s been asking for you, she says you’re late,” called a voice.

“Tell her I’ll be right there, I need a minute or two. I’ll see her soon,” Cullen replied, and Lavellan heard footsteps and the thud of the door shutting. 

Lavellan tiptoed to the edge of the landing and peered below, where Cullen threw on his coat and ran his fingers through his hair with pomade. “You have a meeting?” she asked.

“Yes, and I overslept,” he grumbled.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured, and Cullen stopped getting ready and climbed up the ladder to the loft.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I forgot I had an appointment this morning. I wish I could ignore it and stay here with you.” He reached for her, encircling her in his arms and giving her a long kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

Cullen dashed off without another word, leaving Lavellan alone in his office. She begrudgingly began putting on her clothes. She had a meeting of her own to get to, breakfast with Dorian at his request. If she hurried she would have time to bathe in her room and wear an unrumpled outfit.

* * *

“Why are we eating in the tavern?” Lavellan whined. After meeting Dorian at his favorite nook in the library, he had insisted they skip the mess hall. Apparently, his ideal meal in the morning involved spirits and being surrounded by hungover patrons who hadn’t made it out the doors the night prior.

“It’ll be fun! Don’t be a spoilsport. Think of lovely brunch aperitifs,” Dorian shot back as they crossed Skyhold’s courtyard. 

Lavellan socked him in the arm playfully. “Ow! I promise you all the cocktails once the babe’s here,” he laughed.

“Deal,” she agreed, shaking his hand to seal it. She grinned from ear to ear despite the lackluster meal that awaited her.

“Aren’t you full of sunshine today,” Dorian commented. “Given your sulking of late, I do wonder the root cause of this new development.”

She rolled her eyes but gave nothing away, so he continued while wiggling his brows, “Did you and Cullen work things out?”

“We may have,” she stated lightly.

“Thank the heavens!” Dorian raised his head to the sky in a mock prayer. “You two can be particularly thick-skulled, making it rather annoying to be friends with you both.”

“Just keep it quiet?” she whispered, but the area around them was deserted. “I don’t know if he wants to be the subject of gossip. We haven’t had time to discuss whether we’re taking things public.”

“Well, I’m afraid that it might be too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” She grew tense, but Dorian merely shrugged at her question, and they were already at the tavern door.

“After you, milady,” Dorian bowed and gestured for her to enter.

Lavellan shoved the tavern’s doors open, curious about Dorian’s previous comment and annoyed at his non-answer, only to be shocked by shouting. Her hand rushed to her side for a pommel that wasn’t there.

“Surprise!”

Lavellan blinked slowly. The tavern was packed with people, her Inner Circle and others, and their attention was all on her. Ribbons of pastel blue and pink were spun along the wood beams, and a banner splattered messily with paint read “Congratulations, Inky!”. Presents were piled on a table near the entrance, and there were small towers of petit fours and sliced fruit. Josephine was front and center, beaming.

“What is this?” Lavellan whispered dumbly, stepping back. She could already guess, however. She had heard something about the Orlesian practice of baby showers, where women celebrated a mother-to-be with gifts and embarrassing games.

“Your baby shower for little Baby Lavellan,” Josephine replied, as if her question was silly. She rushed forward to Lavellan, pinning a large flower of blue and pink paper to the front of her top. “You’re the guest of honor.”

She stared down at the pin and felt Dorian grab her arm. “Let’s find a seat, shall we?”

Lavellan walked in a trance to a table in the middle of the room as Dorian guided her to a chair that faced everyone. “I’m going to get you back for this,” she hissed at him.

Numb, she absentmindedly rearranged around the silverware in front of her, avoiding the gaze of the other partygoers. She had no problem standing in front of troops, rallying them for battle with a speech generated on the spot, but stick her in a party in her honor, and she wanted to crawl under a table and hide. 

“Some breakfast, Inquisitor?” A plate laden with pastries was pushed into her line of sight. She glanced up to meet Cullen’s gaze.

“You’re here,” she mumbled, dumbfounded.

“Some people,” Josephine shot Dorian a sharp look, “thought it best that we invite all of your closest friends, regardless of gender, and nix any traditional games.”

“No melted chocolate in nappies. How disappointed you must be, Inquisitor.” Leliana smirked from her spot in the corner.

Josephine invited the others to partake in the food and drink, and the tables around Lavellan were filled. She wished someone would sit next to her and act as a shield of sorts, but perhaps they felt it wasn’t their place. Josephine stood by as the host of the affair, but that wasn’t enough. Luckily, Dorian dropped into the chair on her left. “I’m not going to abandon you,” he sighed.

Most of the seats had been taken, and Cullen was a fish out of water, awkwardly scoping out where to go. Dorian waved him over, and Cullen froze and moved in the opposite direction.

“Cullen, why don’t you sit over here next to Lavellan?” Josephine called to him, catching him in the act, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“That’s fine, I can stand-“

“It’s okay, why don’t you sit-“ Lavellan pointed to the empty chair next to her right as Dorian laughed.

Cullen’s hand reached to scratch at the back of his neck, but he dropped it and took his spot near her. Though her appetite wasn’t quite what it used to be, Lavellan was ravenous and focused on the food on her plate, while everyone did the same - and interrogated her in front of a live audience. She would be actively chewing her breakfast, but that didn’t stop others from inquiring loudly across the room about her birth plans and planned nursery décor. It was all in good fun, so Lavellan blushed, covered her lips with a hand, and tried to play along as best she could. 

At last, it was time for gifts, which was a welcome change of pace, at least for a few seconds. Iron Bull strolled up to her table, slamming down a bottle-shaped object in a velvet bag, which turned out to be aged whiskey.

“You’re going to need that to keep sane during the night. Especially if you’ve got a biter. I’ve heard stories-”

“Umm, alright, thanks,” was Lavellan’s horrified response.

She could hear Dorian chide his lover under his breath, “We talked about this!”

Josephine gifted beautiful blankets from the finest Antivan fabric, acquired by her merchant family. Leliana presented cloth diapers, ever so practical. Cassandra, trendy Orlesian baby clothes that she admitted were “terribly cute.” Vivienne gifted an Andrastian baptism gown for the baby; would Lavellan’s child grow up in the Chantry? It wasn’t something she had discussed yet with Cullen. Varric, a guidebook on parenting babies, which Cullen eyed with interest. Sera, a toy bow and arrow set that Lavellan would be stowing away until her child was a more appropriate age.

Solas presented Lavellan with a book of stories of the Elven people, written from his own hand. She ran the pad of her finger across the inked loops of his handwriting, knowing the gift must have been a labor of love. 

“Your child should be aware of where they came from,” he explained. “Even…”

As he trailed off, Lavellan hugged the leather-bound volume to her chest. “Thank you, Solas. Truly.”

From underneath a tarp, Blackwell revealed a crib with intricate carved designs of animals. It was so beautiful that Lavellan’s eyes started to well up. Dorian presented a large box of magicked trinkets from Tevinter; toys that lit up, moved, or played music. It must have cost a fortune, or Dorian had spent unknown hours working on them himself. She had never seen such things before; she smiled as she played with each one.

“Thank you, my friend.” Lavellan grabbed Dorian’s hand and squeezed it. It was mind-boggling how far they had come. He had been almost a virtual stranger to her when they had fallen into the future. Their friendship had then been forged in fire, as they struggled to comprehend their new environment and find a way home. Now here they were, at her baby shower of all places.

The pile of gifts had all been unwrapped. Cullen was tense beside her, his shoulders rigid. He reached into his coat, and his hand emerged with a tiny wooden box that he placed before her. 

“I wasn’t sure what to get. I hardly know anything about babies,” he confessed, insecurity plain on his face. “Dorian helped a little.”

“That’s alright, Cullen,” Lavellan said, managing her expectations as she opened the box. It nearly slipped from her grip. A shining coin, a duplicate of hers, rested against velvet. This one, his, was now also on a chain, but it was thin, delicate, and smooth. The chain was tiny, and the clasp was miniature. “What is this?”

“Uh, it’s umm… a baby bracelet. I’ve been told nobles often have them crafted for children? To match your necklace.” 

When she did not say anything, he backtracked. “It’s stupid-”

“It’s your lucky coin,” she interrupted. “It’s perfect.”

Without thinking, Lavellan leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his lips. Cullen stilled as someone wolf-whistled. He must have been embarrassed by her public display of affection. “Shit, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m not, if you aren’t-”

“I’m not then,” she answered firmly, and this time he made the move, tilting his head to chastely kiss her on the cheek. One would have thought they were making out after victory in battle, for the room erupted.

“Oh, stop that,” Lavellan directed to the revelers, but there was no ire behind her words. They were surrounded by those who loved them, who loved her, who would love their child.

“Does this mean I should turn down all of those marriage proposals?” Josephine teased.

* * *

That night, her friends and some servants carried all of the presents from the baby shower up to her quarters, and there was considerably less space in her once roomy bedchamber. Cullen had just brought up the last box.

“You have some redecorating to do,” he commented with a wry grin.

“Indeed,” she sighed. “And so very little time to do it.”

“I can help,” Cullen offered.

“As if you don’t have enough on your plate, too. We’ll figure it out. It’s not like everything has to be ready tomorrow.” She fell backwards onto her bed. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

Cullen hesitated. “There are some reports I haven’t reviewed yet today-”

“As Inquisitor, I demand you call it a night and warm my bed,” she joked.

He shook his head in amusement. “As my lady commands,” he answered with faux reluctance.

* * *

Lavellan awoke with her heart racing. Her skin was slick with sweat, and darkness greeted her. It took a minute for her to get her bearings. She was in bed at Skyhold, with Cullen fast asleep at her side. She slowly released the breath she had been holding as relief washed over her. This was reality.

In her dream, she stood with Dorian next to the swirling time portal he had conjured. The hall was filled with hideous creatures, and the floor was littered with the bodies of her friends. Cullen was there, and he was alive and whole. His hair was short, and the scars on his face had been sustained in the future, so it wasn’t the man who had been sleeping beside her. In her dream state, her confused mind mused over the details. Hadn’t he died?

Something in her stomach had pulled, and when she touched her abdomen, her glove came back red.

“No,” Cullen whispered.

“We have to go!” Dorian yelled.

Her knees gave out from under her. Cullen fell beside her, holding her up. Dorian had waited too long, and he had been dragged away from the portal, which disappeared into thin air.

“No!” Dorian screamed.

There was little she could do, weak as she was, and she stared at Cullen’s terrified visage as everything faded to black.

A nightmare, Lavellan reminded herself. That’s all it was. Her stomach tightened, her muscles gone taught. She rubbed at her abdomen, and the strange feeling dissipated after a moment. Not wanting to wake Cullen, Lavellan struggled to quietly rearrange her pillows around her and get comfortable. Once she was settled, she was startled when Cullen spoke. “Everything okay?”

Her nerves calmed at the sound of his voice. “It’s nothing.” 

He laid a warm hand on her shoulder, and soon she found her eyelids fluttering shut.


	12. Chapter 12

“Inquisitor!” Leliana cried. “You must go after Morrigan. She went through here.”

Lavellan had been summoned by a messenger to the storage room that held the Eluvian, where Leliana had awaited, wringing her hands. “What?” Lavellan asked, dumbfounded.

“Kieran went in, and Morrigan followed in a panic. We have to get them back.”

She was not eager to travel through the Eluvian again; time travel and her quick trip to the Fade had left her with a deep-seated fear of any means of magical transport, but she was the Inquisitor. In the end, she was responsible for everything. “I’ll go.”

Leliana went off to fetch help. Cullen would surely be upset that she had disappeared into the Eluvian, and without any companions, but from Leliana’s frantic tone, Lavellan gathered there was no time to waste. She stepped into the mirror and swore viciously when she emerged in what appeared to be the Fade, not the Crossroads.

Lavellan’s abdomen throbbed, and she whispered, “I want to get out of here, too. We’ll be back soon, promise.” 

She cautiously wandered down a path and with relative ease found Morrigan. Lavellan agreed to aid Morrigan in her search for her son. Lavellan’s heart ached for her friend; she would not let the boy be abandoned there.

Fortunately, they found Kieran, but he was not alone. Lavellan was introduced to Morrigan’s mother, Flemeth. Lavellan’s mouth dropped in horror when she heard of Flemeth’s intentions for her grandson: possession. Morrigan lashed out, but it was of no use. Flemeth was a vessel for Mythal, and Morrigan had drunk from the Well of Sorrows; she was bound to Mythal’s will.

This demonic-looking human was an elven god. Lavellan clutched her sword at her side, but there would be no point in drawing it. Flemeth was an undefeatable foe. The only option was to somehow negotiate with her. 

Morrigan sacrificed herself, offering her body to Flemeth. It was the same choice Lavellan would have made for her own child. The pain of losing them was unimaginable, and she would lay her life on the line in a heartbeat. Luckily, Flemeth was moved by Morrigan’s offer, and she removed the Old God spirit from Kieran and left. Flemeth claimed she would never possess an unwilling host. Morrigan embraced Kieran, and the relief was palpable.

The three returned to Skyhold through the Eluvian, Morrigan and Kieran holding hands. Morrigan was eager to speak with Lavellan as soon as they were back to the storage room. “Inquisitor, I have knowledge on how we can defeat the red lyrium dragon in battle. We must find Corypheus and his pet.”

“Then we should prepare for battle. It’s time to end this.” Lavellan gripped the edge of the Eluvian as a wave of pain rippled through her, stealing the air from her lungs. The intensity of the contraction left no doubt that she was now in labor.

“Mum?” Kieran tugged on Morrigan’s wrist, staring in concern at Lavellan’s twisted face and heavy breathing.

“Lavellan, we should take you to your quarters and fetch the midwife.” Morrigan snaked an arm around Lavellan’s back, encouraging her to move forward. “Inhale, exhale and all of that business.”

“I know,” Lavellan snapped.

Rather than throw back a snide remark, Morrigan took a deep breath of her own. “Very good. Because I imagine you’re going to give birth before too long.”

The contraction was gone, and all pain disappeared. “Let’s go,” Lavellan replied, seizing the opportunity.

* * *

Lavellan’s bedchamber had become crowded. She had settled into bed in a loose gown, and proceeded to be poked to prodded by healers, a midwife, and a surgeon. Morrigan had sent away Kieran but stayed by her side in the shadows. Leliana and Josephine made cameos to check in on her. It was comforting to see them all, but whom she desired most of all was Cullen.

“My dear, men wait outside,” her midwife advised her, patting her arm. If a contraction hadn’t caused her to tense after that, Lavellan would have lashed out at her patronizing behavior. “This is women’s business.”

When her body relaxed, she rushed to say, “That may have been the case with the human nobles you have served, but please send in the Commander.”

“It’s inappropriate,” the woman tutted. 

Lavellan wanted to scream in frustration, but she managed to compose herself to an extent. “I’ll- “

“That’s an order from the Inquisitor. You will fetch him,” Morrigan spoke up, her silky voice not softening the threat behind her words. 

The midwife looked scared to death of the witch and scurried off to comply with her instructions. Gratitude washed over Lavellan for her newfound friend. 

She did not have to wait very long for Cullen, as he arrived seconds later, leading her to believe that he may have been pacing outside. She could see across his features that he was at war with himself, the slightest upward turn at the corners of his mouth, but his forehead was crinkled. “How are you? I wanted to come earlier, but wasn’t sure, and they wouldn’t let me in, anyway,” he said as he approached her bedside.

She reached for his hand, so glad to get a purchase on something. “I’m hanging in there,” she replied with honesty. 

“Good, because you’ve got a long way to go, Inquisitor,” chipped in an eavesdropping healer. 

“How long?” Cullen and Lavellan spoke over each other. 

“Being this is your first, I’d say we’re looking at tomorrow morning?”

Cullen gave Lavellan an encouraging smile. Lavellan groaned, but she did not fear laboring through the night. She had been terribly injured on several occasions, and having a baby was a happy event.

* * *

The baby did not come the next morning or any time that day. The midwife prepared a tea of raspberry leaves that was supposed to help her deliver faster, and it was the only thing Lavellan was allowed to imbibe other than water.

Try to get some sleep, they had told her, which was a farce. The raspberry tea had intensified her contractions, and they lasted longer. The endless pain with only the briefest relief through the day and night did not help pacify her surging nerves. She was so exhausted she felt it in her bones and became borderline delirious.

Cullen’s head lolled as he awkwardly slumped in a chair, slumber finally claiming him. She wanted him to be there throughout it all, but realized it was best if someone got rest. She wasn’t, however, immune to jealousy over how he got to relax to a degree.

The midwife had begun feeling her forehead, taking her temperature every so often. She whispered with the healers and surgeon over by the doorframe, their voices inaudible from where Lavellan lay. Lavellan had heard the horror stories of babies that had to be cut from their mothers’ wombs. Only the most talented of healers were able to save a mother’s life in these instances, and only if all circumstances were perfect. It was something she strongly wished to avoid.

It was allegedly a myth that elven women struggled to deliver human children, but Lavellan took no comfort in that. “Please,” she hoarsely begged a healer who was once again checking on her. Lavellan wasn’t certain what she was asking for. For it to be over, for the baby to be healthy, for them not to perform surgery on her.

“We’ll wait until the morning, unless anything changes,” the woman soothed, pouring more water into a cup for her. 

Lavellan eagerly grabbed the water to slake her thirst. Fortunately, though her last meal seemed like it was eons ago, she did not find herself hungry. It was early evening, with the sun’s last beams of light fading. There was roughly a half-day to go, she estimated, before some decision had to be made. The longer she avoided the surgeon’s blade, the better, but the hours ahead felt insurmountable.

* * *

Lavellan was not certain as to what time of the night it was. Candles had burnt low in her quarters, and the sky outside remained pitch dark. She couldn’t say how long she had been there, as the passage of time had turned abstract. The midwife had told her she was ready to push, and some energy managed to rush back into her. Cullen was asleep to the world and unresponsive to her calling his name, but a pillow thrown at his head had fixed that. Now he stood by her bedside, shaking from head to toe.

“Do you need to step outside for some fresh air, Commander?” a healer asked, but it sounded more like a stern recommendation.

“Noo… no,” was his strangled response. Lavellan squeezed his fingers, which seemed to bring him back to reality, as he gave a little yelp before collecting himself. Her squeeze may have been more like a death grip, but he didn’t grimace or attempt to escape her grasp, thankfully. His hand was a lifeline for her.

The seconds began to fly by quickly, but later, she would be told it had been more than an hour. She pushed and pushed with the minute strength she had remaining. Concerned glances were shared amongst the midwife and healers, and their encouraging platitudes changed to strong commands borne of desperation. The pain became blinding, but the baby slipped forth, and all was forgotten.

Their skin was a strange purple, and the silence was deafening, but with a little cleaning and a few taps on the back, there was a mewling cry and the baby’s flesh grew pinkish red. 

“It’s a girl!” cried one of the healers, wrapping Lavellan’s baby daughter in blanket and placing her on Lavellan’s chest. Lavellan dragged down the top of her dress, allowing the baby to touch her skin. The crying did not cease, but it did not diminish the peace Lavellan felt in that moment. She kissed her daughter’s soft, fuzzy forehead with trembling lips.

“Does she have a name?” someone asked.

“June Aveline Lavellan Rutherford,” Lavellan answered with reverence. Her mother’s god, the first female chevalier, and her parents’ surnames. The name had been easily agreed to.

A shadow fell upon them as Cullen leaned over to get a better peek. With reluctance, Lavellan bundled their daughter and carefully passed her to him. He looked at her, stupefied, her arms held out in midair. Cullen slowly accepted her, treating her like a delicate relic that may crumble at the slightest touch.

Lavellan smiled as she observed the two. The baby’s eyes, when they were briefly opened, were slate gray, and it would take time before their ultimate color was apparent, but she would place a bet that they would be a combination of her parents’ warm yellow-brown tones. Only a few wisps of hair were brushed across June’s scalp, and they were so pale that they could almost be white.

A midwife stayed by Lavellan’s side as things were finished up, but Cullen and Lavellan were mostly left alone to marvel over the new life that had entered their world. At some point, nausea washed over Lavellan, and food was fetched for the parents who had been absorbed by the proceedings. Eventually, the healers needed to examine June further for safety’s sake, and Lavellan and Cullen hesitatingly let her go as the staff departed with her. The Commander and Inquisitor had been given strict orders to rest in the meantime, and as much as Lavellan was wired and wanting to soak up every minute, the exhaustion was overpowering. She patted at her bed, and Cullen lay down next to her, their fingers entwined. 

* * *

Lavellan jerked awake and clutched her wrist in agony. Her eyes first darted to the bassinet by her bed, where June now was, back from her examinations and napping in a swaddled blanket. Then Lavellan observed her hand, which glowed brightly and crackled. She must have whimpered out loud in pain, for Cullen stirred next to her.

An eerie green light had been cast across the room, and through the window, Lavellan could see a new tear in the sky. Gray clouds began to swirl, blocking out the sun. Having only briefly slumbered, she sluggishly processed what was happening. 

Leliana and Jospehine flew into the room, not bothering with knocking first or offering congratulations. Leliana’s lips were set in a thin line, and Josephine appeared on the verge of tears.

“He’s here,” Leliana greeted Lavellan, her words clipped and neutral, at odds with her gloomy appearance. 

“Corypheus,” Lavellan murmured thickly, her mouth dry. She winced as she held her pulsing hand to her chest, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what happened next.


	13. Chapter 13

Lavellan stared outside at the rapidly darkening horizon. “Why now?

“A surprise attack. Apparently, Corypheus was not willing to wait any longer to confront you, or he has someone on the inside and thought to make a move during a moment of weakness,” Leliana answered as she leaned over Lavellan to shake Cullen awake.

“Huh?” Cullen sat up and rubbed his eyes, his body tensing with alarm once he noticed his fellow advisors.

“Corypheus has created another tear. He’s here, in the valley. Lavellan must stop it,” Leliana repeated for his sake. 

He stood up and shook his head vigorously. “That’s madness! The troops have not returned yet.”

“Look out the window,” Josephine spoke up. Their attention turned to the balcony, where green swirled in the sky. 

“The breach must be closed, or all will be lost,” Leliana addressed Cullen.

“But…” Cullen was at a loss. He glanced at the soundly asleep baby and Lavellan. “She just gave birth, for fuck’s sake.”

Cullen’s curse, strange to hear from him, reverberated throughout the room. “Be that as it may, it doesn’t change the fact that she must face him now. This isn’t Haven, there’s no escape, and the world is at stake,” replied Leliana.

“What about June?” whispered Lavellan.

“A nurse will see to her, and the midwife will ensure she is well cared for until your return,” Josephine answered, giving her best attempt to assuage Lavellan’s fears.

“My return,” Lavellan repeated faintly. She felt as if she were trapped in slowly hardening amber. She had just spent the last couple of days in labor, given birth to her newborn daughter, and mere hours later would be facing a magister who fashioned himself as a god. The absurdity and cruelty of her position should have led her to hysterics, laughter spilling forth without reason. Instead, Lavellan was detached. “Cullen, you’ll look after June?”

“I’m joining you on the battlefield,” Cullen said fiercely. He was a fool if he expected no argument.

“Absolutely not. You are the Commander of our forces. You will oversee the troops from the fort,” Lavellan replied sternly. His stormy expression pulled at her heart. “Should we fail, I prefer not to leave our daughter an orphan.”

Leliana and Josephine had been following their conversation with patience. At last, Cullen frowned and agreed, merely saying, “Let us prepare then.”

Leliana and Josephine swept out of Lavellan’s quarters with a brief glance at the Inquisition's newest member, Cullen hot on their heels. Lavellan was only alone for a moment, as in swarmed the midwife and healers. As if in a trance, Lavellan stood at her bedside with the intention of getting dressed, but didn’t know where to start. Luckily, the other women were there to help. Off went her gown. They had brought the leggings and tunic she had been wearing earlier. Embarrassed but past the point of caring, Lavellan watched as they dressed her. She was still bleeding, but there was nothing that could be done about that. There was also the matter of the dull but persistent cramping that plagued her, and her tender chest that she now bound tightly. Time, not elfroot, could alleviate those aches, but she was all out of it.

The other women eased boots on Lavellan’s feet, working silently. They were solemn with no hushed whispers. It was unspoken that Lavellan could possibly hemorrhage out there on the battlefield.

Cullen returned, carrying her armor, shield, and sword, and the others hurried out. Cullen and Lavellan did not speak as he latched her plate on. She had to wear the armor she wore while pregnant, as her stomach was only slightly smaller than it was before the birth. Leather buckles tightened across empty flesh. Lavellan’s tears rained down on her metal chestplate and would not abate.

Months ago, they had been in the same position. Her Cullen had been radiating quiet confidence and hope, even though they faced an uncertain, decisive end to fixing the future. She had felt a sense of dread but had fought against it, molded it into determination. Here Cullen was hollowed out, his face drawn with bloodshot eyes. He seemed reluctant to touch her. Lavellan was beyond dread. She was resigned to her fate.

Cullen held out the shield he had gifted her, but Lavellan did not accept it. “Get my long sword, please,” she commanded, though she was unable to stop her voice from cracking.

He frowned. She fully expected a rebuttal, but he departed without a word. In Cullen’s absence, Lavellan took the opportunity to stand over her daughter in her bassinet. 

“Hi, my darling,” she greeted June even though she was slumbering. Lavellan hated to awaken her, but this might be her only chance. She lifted June up into her arms, careful to pad her armored arms with blankets to create a soft cocoon for her. Lavellan removed her right glove with her teeth and used a finger to gently trace her daughter’s face, committing the cherubic visage to memory. June woke up, eyes barely fluttering open. There was so much Lavellan wanted to say, but June wouldn’t understand or remember anyway. She settled for, “I love you so much. Always.”

Heavy footsteps signaled Cullen’s return. She pressed a kiss to the soft skin of June’s forehead, soaking in the newborn smell of her in between sniffles. Lavellan started to lower her back into her bassinet, but June gave a shrill cry, so instead she traded June for her sword with Cullen.

It had been a while since she last grasped her favorite longsword, and the weight was foreign in her hands, but there was also a comfort in it. Lavellan had fought with this type of weapon for years, and if this was to be her last battle, it would be with a longsword. She would strike down Corypheus and make Thedas a safer place for her child, even if it meant being unshielded, even if it meant her life.

Lavellan slid her sword home into the sheath that hung from her waist. She fidgeted to stall her departure, but there was no escaping destiny. “I should figure out who’s going with me,” she said aloud, mostly to herself.

Cullen nodded, and his focus was drawn to their daughter, quiet and content in his arms. Surely a nurse would be stepping in shortly to carry her away to safety, but seeing the two of them together then made her feel at home for the first time since the sky had been torn asunder at the Conclave. It was excruciatingly bittersweet to part so soon.

Cullen glanced up at Lavellan. “I…,” he wavered. “You’re coming back.”

It sounded more like a question, his sentence tipping upward at the end. Lavellan didn’t possess the mental fortitude to soothe over Cullen’s worry with empty promises, as she shared his same emotions. “I love you,” she rasped, shooting for a smile, but her lips trembled.

“And I, you,” he managed, similarly grim. 

The midwife strolled in, a woman on a mission, easing June from Cullen’s grasp. Dorian appeared in the doorframe, his face softening at his first glance of June. A shadow soon fell upon him, however. “Time to gather your squad?”

Lavellan gave Cullen a brief kiss and left without turning back. If she allowed herself to embrace Cullen or look again at the daughter she barely knew, she might never reach the battlefield.

* * *

The main hall was in chaos. Inquisition personnel moved around each other, hurrying to prepare for whatever may come. Dorian led her to the entrance, where her companions were lined up and waiting for her. Most wore mournful expressions. She did not need pity, only those who could do the job, and do it well. She called out Iron Bull, Sera, and Vivienne, and the others murmured amongst themselves. Dorian immediately protested, but she shut him down. “Look after them?” she asked, and his mouth slowly shut, and no further explanation was required.

 _"Lethallan_ , I would ask if I could join?” Solas addressed Lavellan.

She contemplated denying his request, but she had spent a lot of time in the field with Solas, and they worked together well. “Fine. You can swap with Vivienne.”

It was then time to say goodbye, as the sky turned to a deep charcoal gray. Lavellan hugged those who would not be accompanying her, and her advisors gathered round as well to watch. She should have stringed together some inspiring speech, but she was hardly motivated. Lavellan could hardly look at any of them. Iron Bull, Solas, Sera, and Lavellan departed for the Valley of the Sacred Ashes, where Corypheus awaited.

They found Corypheus below the tear, with dead Inquisition soldiers strewn at his feet.

“I knew you would come,” he sneered, red light emanating from his disfigured flesh.

Lavellan snarled back a retort, but found herself falling. The ground broke to pieces and levitated. Corypheus raised the ruins of the temple into the air as Lavellan and her companions scrambled to find purchase, leaving behind everyone on the valley floor below. At last, their ascent was halted, leaving the temple floating in midair. Of course, a delusional wannabe god would choose such a setting for their confrontation. He began a brief monologue, and Lavellan did not engage with his ranting, only to tell him, “I am not a god. Neither are you, and you are going to die here today.”

Though Corypheus had brought no red templars or Venatori, his red lyrium dragon settled on the archway behind his master and roared. Morrigan in dragon form swooped down to knock the red lyrium dragon off his perch. Lavellan watched in awe as the dragons tangled, praying for Morrigan to emerge victorious. She could not watch for long, as Corypheus struck.

Lavellan was rusty. Her sword was strange to maneuver, but everything began to come back to her. She had grown up playing with swords by herself in the forest, practicing rigorously each day to improve her form, so that one day she may confront evil and win like the heroes in the stories she read. This was the culmination of those childhood dreams and her time with the Inquisition, both present and future. Her mind grew blank; her only focus was the enemy in front of her.

Sera sent arrows flying as fast as Lavellan had ever seen her go. Iron Bull was bloodthirsty, taunting and charging headfirst. Solas, her dear friend, was at her side, a spell ready whenever a blast came her way; his face was contorted with effort and loathing. Corypheus teleported frequently, pausing to summon shades. He moved further into the ruins, as if he were fleeing. Lavellan and her companions did not relent, following closely behind, matching his attacks with their own, the shades a mere annoyance.

Alas, the red lyrium dragon reappeared, roaring once again as he landed directly in front of Lavellan. Maybe it would have scared the average soldier, but Lavellan found beauty in dragons and had fought them out of necessity before. Morrigan had done them a favor by weakening it, and Lavellan would finish the fight. She ran to the dragon, ignoring its breath and snaking tail. She hacked and slashed at the dragon’s legs, staying underneath him at all times with Iron Bull. Solas and Sera attacked from afar, careful to dodge the dragon’s retaliations. It wasn’t long before the creature was listless, and Lavellan slid out from underneath the belly of the beast. Before the dragon could render one last attack, Lavellan raised her blade and sent it slamming down on the dragon’s thin neck, killing it.

They had defeated the red lyrium dragon, and all that was left was Corypheus. This small victory gave Lavellan a second wind. She chased after Corypheus as they reached the top level of the platform. There was nowhere else to go.

On occasion, Lavellan would be struck by magic, but it was as if it bounced right off of her. Her only purpose was to strike down Corypheus, and only death itself would cause her to falter. She knew her teammates were not as impervious. Sera was hanging on by a thread, nearly always the first to be injured in a fight. Iron Bull was still thrashing, but his stamina could only last so long. An outward pulse sent Lavellan and Solas sprawling, and Solas put his weight on his staff in order to rise. Lavellan growled and rushed at Corypheus, landing a blow to his midsection, but he was able to toss her aside. Before she could get back on her feet completely, Corypheus threw the orb at her, knocking her down again. He fought to control the orb with his magic, as red flames danced around. Lavellan used the distraction to rise and draw upon the energy of the Anchor, holding the green-hued magic in her palm. When Corypheus turned to face her, she managed to pull the orb to the Anchor, stealing it from Corypheus. Without it, he sunk to the ground, deflated. Lavellan thrust her hand above her head, and the combined might of the orb and Anchor shot a burst of magic into the sky, closing the breach.

The orb rolled to the floor and no longer glowed. Rocks began falling from above, but Lavellan paid them no heed. She stalked toward Corypheus. “I told you this would end now.”

Corypheus could only groan as she hit him with the Anchor. He was encased with bright green light, and when it dissipated, he was gone, once and for all. There was little time for a victory celebration, as the rocks started to rain down faster. The ruins of the temple were going to fall out of the sky. Lavellan stumbled and slid across the face of the platform as it precariously tilted downward, her fingers slipping as they struggled to grab ahold of anything.

The temple landed on the surface of the valley from which it had come. The impact slammed Lavellan’s head forward onto a rock, dazing her. Wobbly, she pulled herself up and touched her forehead, where a lump was already starting to form. She wiped a trickle of blood that fell from her brow. Next she gazed upward, seeing no breach above her. Lavellan smiled at that and exhaled with relief. When she lowered her head again, she almost collapsed. Vertigo and dizziness from what may be a concussion, she thought. The adrenaline was already leaving her system, and all of those forgotten aches and pains were making themselves known again. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Rubble was everywhere, and Lavellan did not immediately spot her companions, until Solas wandered into her view, searching for something on the ground. He crouched down and held the discarded orb, now broken into halves. “Solas?”

“The orb,” he responded with reverence and despair, not lifting his eyes from it.

“I’m sorry?” she replied, the corners of her mouth turning down. Corypheus was defeated. Lavellan was aware Solas had researched the orb, but if it was lost, it did not matter; that monster was dead, and she would trade nothing for it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he sighed. Lavellan could not recall seeing him so pained before.

“Solas, what is this about-”

Cassandra was shouting something from nearby, her voice causing Lavellan to pause. She went to walk down the stairs in the direction the sound came from, but she lost her balance and ended up on her hands and knees, her kneecaps stinging from the sudden contact.

“Solas?” she called out, but he was stepping away from her, away from the stairs. Solas was fading into the blurred edges of her sight. He was leaving her. “It was always about the orb, wasn’t it?” she shouted at his retreating figure.

He stopped for a second, his words barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

Solas wasn’t that far away, she realized. It was getting harder for her to see or hear clearly. “May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps,” she whispered with thinly veiled disdain. He had never truly been her friend; she was merely a pawn in his search for power, for whatever reasons he held close to his chest.

Solas froze as if struck. Lavellan wanted to say more, but she was panting with effort. Her body gave out, and she curled up on her side. She squeezed her eyelids shut and opened them, hoping it would clear her vision. No such luck, as things were becoming blurrier. She panicked, wanting to get up, but the effort required seemed impossible to generate. Instead, she honed in on her breathing, until she heard Iron Bull. “Boss?” he said tentatively, rolling her onto her back.

Lavellan could barely discern his shape above her. She attempted to push back against the drowsiness that started to overtake her, willing herself to stay awake. She was lifted up, her head lolling limply without her control, and then she was lost.


	14. Chapter 14

Lavellan did not remember where she was, or what time it was, or much of anything. She awoke startled, her chest pounding from her thudding heartbeat. Her surroundings were dimly lit, and she struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together. A nightstand was near her pillow, a candle burnt low resting on its surface. Above her was the canopy of a four-poster bed. Lavellan blinked rapidly, the tension releasing from her muscles upon the realization that she was in her quarters in Skyhold. Gently, she sat up on her bed, and her head pulsed. When Lavellan touched her forehead, however, there was no bump or scrape, only smooth skin. Her gaze drifted to her arms, and after throwing back the coverlet, her legs, which showed no bruises or cuts.

Now that Lavellan had been upright for a minute, the dull ache in her brain had dissipated. Her eyes flickered to the lamp burning across the room, which was perched on her desk. Cullen sat there, bent forward with his back to her and loosely clutching a stack of paper. She attempted to speak, but her lips were glued shut from disuse. Lavellan cleared her throat and pried her mouth open. “Cullen?” she croaked. 

He stilled and then stood up with enough force to rattle the desk, as the papers slipped to the floor below, forgotten. Cullen strode to her side and immediately cupped her jaw with his ink-splattered hand, his look of surprise melting into one of relief and careful concern. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine, I suppose,” she replied. “What happened?”

“You’ve been asleep for 2 days,” Cullen answered. Lavellan could see that the Commander had likely been awake for many of those hours. He had not looked his best before the battle, and the days afterward had taken a toll as well. 

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” Lavellan chided, offering a ghost of a smile.

Cullen’s hand dropped to his side, and he looked away from her. “There were more pressing concerns,” he mumbled.

Lavellan tugged on the sleeve on his coat. “Tell me.”

“You almost died,” he said as if speaking the words aloud physically pained him.

“Because I hit my head-“

“No, merely a mild concussion, thankfully,” Cullen continued. “You nearly bled to death. Hemorrhaging, as the midwife had feared. I don’t know how you made it through the fight.”

“Oh…” she drifted off. “It was kind of an out-of-body experience, really.”

Lavellan stared at the bassinet by her bed and the crib along the wall, noting both were empty. “Where’s June?” she asked.

“They’re after her. I just saw her an hour ago. We thought it would be best if you got some rest.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and continued, “They weren’t sure you were going to survive. They didn’t know… umm… if they were going to have to take your womb to stop the bleeding, but they managed to prevent it. So they say you should make a full recovery, if you were worried about anything like that, future children, and things.”

“Future children,” Lavellan muttered, and she could see his wheels turning, the urge to backpedal apparent, but she softened her expression to let him know he could relax. “How are the others? How many casualties?”

“We lost ten soldiers, may they rest in peace. Sera was hanging on by a thread, but she’s recovering, or at least the healers are trying to keep her from reinjuring herself. Bull had a nasty gash left by the dragon, but he is quite proud of the scar. And there’s no sign of Solas. Bull said he saw him walking away.”

Lavellan nodded, but she didn’t voice her suspicions. Perhaps she was paranoid, letting near-death hallucinations scare her and see shadows where there were none. She sighed, “We should find him. He may not have been a true ally to the Inquisition, though I’d like to think otherwise.”

A sharp knock at the door pulled Lavellan from her thoughts. A woman’s head poked in. “Commander,” she whispered. “Oh, the Inquisitor is up! Did you want to see your darling? She just woke up and is hungry.”

“Yes!” Lavellan cried, all business talk instantly forgotten. 

The nurse strolled in and handed Lavellan her daughter, who was vigorously sucking at her own hand. 

“What do I do?” Lavellan asked, instinctively rocking June to keep her calm. 

The other woman leaned down to show her how to feed her daughter, and though it took a few tries, Lavellan found it easy in the end. She stared down into June’s eyes as she nursed, Cullen beaming down at them. Slowly, June fell asleep content, her mouth popping opening. Lavellan giggled at the sight, her heart swelling with love for her child. She was so lucky to be able to hold her again. Lavellan teared up at the thought that she might have lost the opportunity.

“Lavellan,” Cullen whispered before placing a kiss on her forehead. “We’re both glad that you returned.”

Lavellan drew her gaze away from her sleeping baby. Cullen’s eyes weren’t entirely dry, either. “Well, I hope I can be a good mother, and you don’t get sick of me, because I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon,” she joked to lighten the mood.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think our work is over yet.” Cullen grimaced.

“Perhaps not,” she replied, resuming a serious demeanor. “But I’ll count my blessings. I’m whole, with you at my side, and our daughter is here and healthy.”

Cullen appeared a little reassured at her words and released a shaky breath.

“Go get some sleep,” she softly requested of him.

Cullen balked, but not wanting to wake June, he reluctantly acquiesced. Lavellan was happy to watch father and daughter sleep, and for the first time, she wondered about the possibilities of what their lives might look like next.

* * *

Once Lavellan was allowed off bed rest, the Inquisition threw a victory party in her honor. There had been celebrations after Corypheus was defeated, but they were muted, as the fate of the Inquisitor loomed over them. 

Her Inner Circle swarmed her, plying her with drinks and offering warm hugs. Stories were told, and card games were played. Lavellan laughed the hardest she had in weeks.

At the end of the night, it hit her that the main purpose of the Inquisition was over, so likely some friends might begin to depart to take care of other priorities. They would never again be in a room all together like that.

That chapter of Lavellan’s life was closing, and as sad as it was, she still looked forward to the next.

* * *

Surprisingly, however, some of her Inner Circle opted to remain at Skyhold. One of those to leave, however, was Dorian, which stung. She clung to him as he said goodbye, recalled to Tevinter. They wrote to each other afterward, but it wasn’t quite the same.

Still, to have her old teammates traversing Thedas with her, clearing out pockets of former Corypheus allies, brightened her days when she had to leave behind her family. Work was much the same: excursions to faraway lands, hard weeks on the road, tiresome fights with outmatched foes. No longer, however, was there the specter of an almighty enemy hunting them down. That made it easier to gossip with her friends as they slowly rode their horses, or stop for a snack beside a creek and bathe in the midday sun.

Occasionally, her mind drifted to Solas and contemplated where he was and what he was up to, but she shrugged those thoughts away like a fading dream. Had he gathered an army of elves like he had in her future? Were some of them here with her in Skyhold? She allowed herself to move on.

* * *

Three months passed. June’s smiling and cooing turned Lavellan to jelly. She would not let her daughter out of her sight when she was at Skyhold, choosing to wrap her to her body and carrying her around wherever she went.

The exhaustion was ever-present; that had not changed. She would pass out as soon as her head hit her pillow at the end of the day. Between their Inquisition responsibilities and the needs of an infant, Cullen and Lavellan were frequently like two ships passing in the night.

When Lavellan had her run-in with Samson way back in the dark timeline, Cullen had hastily proposed to her, and they wasted no time on their path to the altar. No such grand romantic gesture was displayed upon her recovery from the battle with Corypheus. She was as certain of her feelings for Cullen as ever, and she wondered if he felt the same. Were the current and future Cullen so different? Or was current Cullen hesitant about marrying her because she had been previously married to him? Was it a matter of timing?

Lavellan decided to take her destiny into her own hands.

June napped in their bedroom while her nanny watched over. Lavellan entered Cullen’s office to ask him to accompany her on a walk. She led him outside the gates of Skyhold, marching to the boulder where she had first told him everything. 

“What is this about?” Cullen inquired tensely as his eyes narrowed.

Lavellan’s mouth dropped open. Her intention was not to cause him discomfort. She had wanted to choose a place that held meaning in their relationship, but Cullen was apparently waiting for her to present a bombshell. Her hastily made plan was clearly a failure.

“It’s not anything bad!” Lavellan rushed to reassure him. She sighed, appreciating the mountainside vista and avoiding Cullen’s piercing stare. Lavellan gathered her courage and faced him. “I know we haven’t had a lot of time together recently. Baby and all that. I don’t want you to think that I’ve cut you out, or my love has diminished.”

Cullen exhaled. “I don’t think that-”

“We’ve just been busy,” she interrupted. “I wanted you to know that nothing has changed for me.”

Lavellan scratched her head, a nervous tic. “The thing is, I can’t imagine my life without you. I have been married before, and it meant something to me. Death is no longer looming over us as much as before, so there isn’t that same pressure to give a formal name to our relationship. And yet, I still want to all the same.”

Cullen’s guard dropped, his shoulders relaxing. 

Lavellan continued, “So I brought you here to tell you that I love you deeply. You’re a good man, Cullen Rutherford, probably the best I’ll ever meet. You’re a wonderful father to our daughter. It’s been quite a journey so far, and I’m wondering if you would take life's path with me until it’s end?”

Cullen appeared slightly befuddled, but answered in the affirmative. “Yes.”

“It’s settled then!” Lavellan cheered, throwing herself into his arms, and he caught her.

“Just so it’s clear…” Cullen replied, looking down at her, his eyes sparkling but questioning.

“Oh, shit,” she groaned and slid away onto her feet. Lavellan had forgotten the most important part. She crouched to the muddy dirt on one knee despite Cullen’s protests. She could feel cold wetness seeping in through her leggings. It was not as romantic as she had imagined. “Ser Cullen Rutherford, will you accept my hand in marriage?”

Lavellan had read stories, and she had been proposed to once. This was how humans traditionally did it, she thought, but Cullen was tugging on her arms, dragging her up and out of the mud. It dawned on her that he was going to reject her. She worried at her lower lip and cast her gaze elsewhere, anywhere but at him. 

“What are you - no, I mean,” Cullen stammered before softly tilting her head toward him with his hands. “Of course I will marry you. I wasn’t exactly expecting you to do that, and I didn’t want you to get down in that muck for my sake.”

“Oh. Well, it was worth it.” Lavellan grinned. “So it’s a yes, then.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, sweeping her back into his arms and kissing her thoroughly.

When they finally broke apart, Cullen declared, “We’re going to make time for ourselves, together. I can think of nothing I want more than you as my wife.”

“My husband,” she tried out. She had said the term before, but it was new again to her. Joy flowed throughout her, erasing any doubts or hang ups about the past. They were stepping forward into the future together, united against the unknown.

* * *

Nine months had passed since Corypheus was defeated. Josephine had thrown herself into wedding planning at Cullen and Lavellan’s announcement, but their news had to remain a secret. Josephine reluctantly stowed away her elaborate book of ideas and acknowledged the reality of their situation. Political rivals would be alarmed by the joining of two of the heads of the Inquisition in matrimony. Tensions had been rising since the demise of their common enemy, with no universal threat to hold together all the factions of Thedas.

Divine Victoria, formerly Leliana, paid a visit to Skyhold, and Cullen and Lavellan could think of no one more fitting to marry them. Their Inner Circle attended the ceremony in the fort’s chapel. Cassandra held June, who was dressed in a lacy white dress and babbled throughout. Cullen and Lavellan’s vows were Andrastian, given their officiant, but they also wrote their own. For her second wedding, Lavellan abstained from including Dalish traditions.

The reception was in the war room, tucked away from any curious bypassers. Cullen and Lavellan did not dance, but Lavellan playfully smashed cake in Cullen’s face after they cut the first slice. Cullen had blinked, stunned, before mounting his own offensive. They each tried to shove more cake in the other’s face, laughing as they dueled and accidentally knocked over things. Frosting was all over, and Josephine clucked her tongue at them, which only encouraged them to chuckle until their eyes were tearing. Lavellan could not recall when they had last acted so carefree.

Their honeymoon was a night to themselves without June’s middle-of-the-night wakings. All in all, it was a rather understated wedding but perfect for them.

It was too soon to try for another child, but Cullen broached the subject. Lavellan agreed that it was a great idea. June should have a companion close in age. However, they were both weighed down by their responsibilities, as parents and as members of the Inquisition, so any talk of another baby was purely theoretical. It was pleasant to share their dreams, ideas of what may come, as Lavellan grew drowsy with her head resting on Cullen’s chest.

The Anchor flared up that night. The attacks were becoming more and more common, but she hid her latest spasm from Cullen as always, running to the washroom and shutting the door. One last lie of omission for old time’s sake, as much as it hurt her and as much as it would hurt him. There was no point in ruining Cullen’s moments of happiness; her worsening condition could not be resolved. Solas had been the only person to demonstrate any knowledge in regards to the magic marring her palm, and for all of Dorian’s research, he had come up with nothing. So Lavellan dealt with the pain as best she could, as she also mitigated the disappointment that her happy ending was fading faster than she had anticipated. If only she had not spent that year in the future, she would have had more time in the present. But no, Lavellan would not regret that, would not begrudge those hard-fought months and those nights when she and Cullen clutched at each other, the thin fabric ceiling of his tent the only barrier between them and a sickly green-gray sky. She would never trade June.

When she woke up in the morning, Cullen was at her side. It was like any other day, but she smiled with contentment. Lavellan could have ended up dead at the Conclave like anyone else from her clan who had attended, but instead she had gotten to live, truly live. She had her husband and her daughter. She had made dear friends. The world was safer. Lavellan would forfeit gracefully.


	15. Chapter 15

It wasn't fair.

A little over a year had passed since Corypheus was defeated, and it had been a year full of joys both small and large. There was Inquisition work and some time spent away, but mostly Cullen, Lavellan, and baby June were together.

The Inquisition had asked so much of Lavellan. She had nearly perished at the Conclave, been stuck in the future, and almost died again after her final fight with Corypheus. Lavellan deserved a long lifetime without stress. How could they have forgotten the mark? What was at first a bothersome but useful tool had turned against Lavellan. The Anchor would spontaneously burst with energy, threatening others in the vicinity and rendering Lavellan incoherent with incredible pain. Dorian and the others had devoted themselves to finding some sort of solution, but as time went by, no further answers were found, and Lavellan’s condition worsened. She was confined to her room, afraid to hurt anyone around her. Inquisition duties were out of the question, and she refused to see June, and barely let Cullen visit.

Cullen was aware that the agonizing flares of the Anchor had been occurring more frequently for months, despite Lavellan’s best attempts to hide it. He would lie awake when she stepped away from their bed, the green light illuminating their quarters before she escaped from sight. They did not discuss it until the attacks became too much to bear and disguise. The longer it was unspoken, the longer they could live in the illusion that everything would be fine.

Cullen held a letter in his fist, which he considered tossing into the fireplace in his office. Dorian had written, confessing that Lavellan had reached out to him privately to seek his advice on how she might end things on her own terms. A topic that she had not addressed with Cullen, likely afraid of his reaction. He had done his best to act as a beacon of hope for her, even as his nightmares returned tenfold and grief would hit him out of nowhere. He was not enough to lift her out of this. The Anchor would claim her, and Cullen was helpless.

Cullen crushed the paper into a ball and lobbed it at the fire. He would find the courage to discuss it with her. Once, he had sworn an oath to strike down any mage who had failed their Harrowing. Cullen had also sworn an oath to his wife, and he would assist her however she wished within reason, even if the thought left him rattled. He had contemplated a vial of lyrium on more than one occasion, wondering if it would give him the strength to get through this, but he could not let Lavellan down.

Cullen dragged his hand down his face. He would go check up on June in her room, now next to his space in the keep. He had moved from the bedroom that he shared with Lavellan, and the office was unsuitable for a baby. June was toddling everywhere lately, and every sharp corner or hard floor had become a new foe that Cullen watched warily as she stretched her legs with her new skill. “Da” was June’s favorite word, and when it spilled from her lips, his heart never failed to flutter.

Cullen walked to June’s room in a daze, the content of Dorian’s letter still weighing on him. June’s warm welcome soon distracted him, as she opened her arms wide to indicate she wanted to be picked up and hugged. Cullen held her close to him, June’s feathery wisps of blond hair tickling his chin. Her nanny confirmed all was well, though Lavellan had not been up to seeing June that morning. She had been gloomy when Cullen had visited earlier, and he wasn’t surprised to hear it. 

Cullen wished he could stay with his daughter and forget the world a little longer, but it was time for his daily meeting with the only other head of the Inquisition left standing - Josephine. Cullen gave June a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye, and his chest ached when June fussed about him leaving.

Jospehine was as taut as a bowstring when Cullen arrived at the war room. He frowned deeply, certain that something was amiss. “What is it?” Cullen demanded.

Josephine laid a piece of parchment on the table. “We have been summoned by Divine Victoria and representatives from Fereldan and Orlais,” she replied. “We must travel to Halamshiral and face the powers that be. There are questions about the Inquisition.”

Cullen leaned over and slid the letter towards him, skimming the content. He shoved it away with contempt when he was done. “As if we have time to play politics? We defeated Corypheus, and there is still work to be done. We’re just supposed to stop and answer to them?”

“I agree that it is not ideal. However, they know something is up. The Inquisitor has not been seen in public in months. Soldiers or her friends have been running Inquisition business, with no leader around. There are already questions about what purpose we serve anymore, and on top of that their hero, Lavellan, has vanished.”

Cullen growled, but Josephine was right, and there was no denying it. “So you’ll be departing shortly?”

“We will be,” Josephine answered firmly. “The Inquisitor cannot attend. We must show them in force what the Inquisition is about. You are admired in Orlais, and you have led our forces. You must stand in Lavellan’s place.”

Cullen could think of few things he would rather do than stand in front of politicians and defend their actions. He curled his fist in frustration. “I’m hardly a suitable replacement figurehead.”

“I’ll be there, and Divine Victoria will be overseeing. You will do fine. What would Lavellan want?”

Cullen frowned slightly, acknowledging the knife she had twisted in his gut. She was aware of what his wife would want. “So be it,” he bit out.

Josephine approached him cautiously. “This isn’t what we wanted or expected. I’m sorry, Cullen,” she consoled him, and she was not merely speaking about the Exalted Council.

“I know,” Cullen sighed. “Thank you, Josephine.” 

“Will June be coming with us?” she inquired.

“No,” he replied sharply. “She’ll have to stay here. Not dragging her to whatever sideshow awaits in Orlais.”

Josephine nodded. “Understandable. Well, I’ll see about the preparations. I assume you’re off to inform the Inquisitor?”

“Yes.” Cullen did not voice his greatest concern about the trip: that Lavellan might not be there when he came back.

* * *

Lavellan had become weak, muscles winnowing down to bone from being bedridden. Her hair had grown out wildly and was barely restrained in a knot. The Anchor was alight more times than not. However, the curtains were open and her palm was dark; Cullen had caught her in a rare instance of clarity. While he was thankful for those brief moments of respite, it would make the farewell more difficult.

Lavellan did not acknowledge his entrance or greet him. Her gaze was fixed on the window. “You shouldn’t be here,” she finally said.

Cullen grunted, “You know what I think about that. Besides, I needed to talk to you.”

Lavellan’s attention was drawn to him. “What about? Is June well?” she asked with concern.

“Yes, she’s fine, don’t worry. It’s about the Inquisition. There is to be a session before the Exalted Council,” Cullen explained.

“And you’re going,” Lavellan answered for him.

He sighed. “I do not wish to. I don’t want to leave you two.”

“I understand.” Lavellan’s eyelids fluttered shut as if she was fighting off fatigue. “But we must stand for our beliefs. For the work we have been - you have been - doing.”

He looked away from her, scared of how she would react. “There are claims we are leaderless, wandering without purpose and overstepping our bounds.”

“So be in my stead,” she replied, and when Cullen turned back to her, her expression was firm. “At the Exalted Council and after.”

“You’re plotting to name me as your successor,” he scoffed. “I got a letter from Dorian.”

Lavellan visibly winced. “I trust my dearest friend has been keeping our correspondence confidential?”

Cullen did not reply, but his face must have given it away. 

“Of course not,” she muttered. “Look, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be here. I do. But we both know the score.”

Lavellan’s eyes were pleading, the crinkles at the corners displaying the effect of the pain and exhaustion on her. She was afraid that he would be angry, but he couldn’t be, not when he witnessed her suffering day in and day out as she built walls around herself. “Will you be alright until I get back?” he asked softly.

Cullen saw the relief wash over her, her forehead relaxing and her lips curling into the slightest smile for his benefit, he was sure. “I hope so,” she murmured.

He nodded. No one could predict what would happen with the Anchor. To his surprise, Lavellan began to step out of bed, placing shaky feet on the floor. “What are you doing?” Cullen asked gruffly as he stepped forward to help her. 

Lavellan wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her cheek against him. “Holding you,” she whispered.

He pulled her as close as he could, hoping to convey everything he felt. He could hear her sniffling. “I don’t want to leave you and June alone. I wanted us to be a family. I wanted June to have a little brother or sister to keep her company-”

“It’s okay. We don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m so happy to have you and June. Just take care while I’m gone? See June if you’re up to it?” Cullen gently interrupted her, stifling the sorrow within himself.

He kissed her with a light touch, but Lavellan dragged him lower, capturing his lips hungrily and questioning him with her tongue. As quick as it started, their embrace came to a sudden halt as she fled to her bed, her breaths heavy. “Write me?” Lavellan requested.

“I promise.”

* * *

_Lavellan,_

_It’s strange to be here again at the Winter Palace. You would have liked our entrance. Just the sort of pageantry I despise, but don’t fret, I’m putting forth an effort. Otherwise, Josephine may swat at me._

_On a more serious note, Divine Victoria sends her best wishes, as do all of the others. To see everyone together again, but without you here, doesn’t feel right at all._

_Truthfully, I think defending the Inquisition will be an uphill battle. Orlais is eager to use us to their advantage, and Fereldan wishes to protect themselves. I missed most of the first day of deliberations -_

Cullen pressed down his quill with enough force that the tip snapped. He tossed the ruined pen to the floor and rubbed at his face, absentmindedly attempting to wipe away his weariness. Cullen noticed his hand was trembling and glanced down to see that his handwriting was barely legible.

Cullen had intended to share the outcome of the Exalted Council with the Inquisitor as was his duty, whatever happened. However, the first day had not gone as expected. The discovery of a dead Qunari had interrupted the proceedings as Cullen had stood before the Council, his voice booming as he argued against the ridiculous claims of the politicians and defended the absence of the Inquisitor.

A Qunari soldier’s corpse of unknown origin was a bad omen. With the Inquisitor absent, Cullen had been nominated by the rest of the Inner Circle to act as lead investigator. He tried to subtly track blood trails across Halamshiral as he was harassed by curious and very forward denizens. 

The blood had led to a bloody Eluvian, and with further prodding from the others, he reluctantly agreed to enter it. Lavellan’s companions were familiar with fighting in a four-person formation, so he chose a few to accompany him, those whom he could trust the most: Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian. He was glad to have Dorian at his side when they emerged in the Crossroads, the mystical dimension connecting Eluvians; he had only heard stories about it before. A sweat broke out on Cullen’s brow as memories of Kinloch Hold threatened to replay in his mind, a sense of déjà vu about being trapped by magic. Dorian, familiar with the Crossroads, guided them to the mirror they were looking for.

They were transported to elven ruins, which were full of Qunari enemy combatants. More interestingly, the group found references to the elven god Fen'Harel **,** and messages that claimed an agent of his was trying to disrupt the Qunari’s plans.

Cullen ran back to inform Josephine and Divine Victoria, and then he and the others promptly returned through the mirror. This time they came out in the Deep Roads, where they found out that Viddasala, a powerful Ben-Hassarath leader, was in charge of the ploy the Qunari had named “Dragon’s Breath.” They had to fight off more Qunari before escaping the cavern. Cullen found himself exhausted by it all, and the day was not done yet. He yearned for the stamina of his youth.

By the time they had reappeared at the Winter Palace, more mystery was afoot. There was a scuffle between an Inquisition soldier and an elven servant, and Cullen had the elf sent away by guards. The soldier passed him a note about Viddasala and another blasted mirror.

It led to a place called the Shattered Library, a horrific, otherworldly library haunted by ghost-like demons. Once again, they were too late to catch Viddasala, who had escaped to the Darvaarad, a Qunari fortress.

Night had now fallen, and Cullen was in his guest room at the palace. He did not have long before Josephine and Leliana would summon him to discuss the latest developments. Cullen held the letter he was writing to Lavellan over a candle’s flame, letting it burn his writing before blowing it out. His letter would have either been full of placating lies or it would have been a shock to her that would cause worry, and he wanted neither. How he wanted to talk to her though, share his burdens and hear her advice, and listen as she soothed his fears, but Cullen was alone.

The events of the day washed over him, and without the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the urge to solve the confusion over the dead Qunari, it hit Cullen that they were in grave danger. Not just the danger he perceived from the Eluvians and the demons, his past trauma reigniting panic and anxiety. There was a serious threat out there that he had not grasped yet, and he had laid his life on the line. Cullen thought of June growing up without her parents.

There was no time to despair, and he hurried to meet Josephine and Divine Victoria. They did not have better news. In fact, the Inquisition had found barrels of the explosive gatlock across the Winter Palace… planted from someone within the Inquisition itself. Someone was threatening Halamshiral and seeking to take down the Inquisition from the inside.

“Cullen,” Divine Victoria addressed him. “This plot must be stopped. Josephine and I will handle the Council, but…”

“I will go find Viddasala,” he replied, his mind set.

“Cassandra could lead-” Josephine offered, but Cullen shook his head. Lavellan had entrusted him with the Inquisition. He would follow it through.

And that’s how he found himself at the Darvaarad in the dead of the night, cutting through Qunari as he raced through a gatlock factory. At the end was a literal dragon to be defeated. “Dragon’s Breath” sought to topple Thedas, allowing the Qunari to rule over Orlais and Fereldan. If the plan were to proceed, the effects would be catastrophic. But once again, Viddasala slipped through his fingers, and the chase through the Eluvians was back on.

Night turned to day. Cullen was worn to the bone, his armor splattered with blood fresh and dry, and a layer of sweat and grime covered his skin. Cassandra passed him a stamina draught as she eyed him with concern, but she appeared as frayed as he felt. He uncorked the glass bottle with his teeth and drank it all in one go.

The sun beamed down from a blue sky, with grass-covered elven ruins around them. It was a more welcoming setting than some of the others they had skipped through, but Cullen wasn’t fooled by their pastoral surroundings. They were close. Close enough that Viddasala set a saarebas, Saarath, on them.

Cassandra and Cullen were experienced in fighting mages, but it was an uphill battle. Dorian and Varric attacked from afar. It was taking too long as they were absolutely drained. They could not let the Qunari’s plan come to fruition, and Cullen fought with more determination, throwing himself recklessly forward as Saarath launched lightning. Cassandra shoved Cullen away.

“Go after Viddasala!” Cassandra yelled in the heat of the battle, clenching her teeth.

“And leave you here with this?” Cullen snarled as his blade clashed against the Qunari’s arm, slashing him but not slowing down his spells.

“We got this, Curly!” Varric called. 

Cullen looked to Cassandra for confirmation, and she wore a grave expression that indicated he should leave them immediately, lest she attack him next.

He hurried through the mirror by himself, following in the footsteps of Viddasala. Cullen stepped out, and he was surrounded by stone gray statues of Qunari. He drew his sword out of instinct, but there was no movement. Slowly, he made his way forward, observing them out of the corner of his eye, but there was no change. These were not ancient relics; this was the work of magic Cullen had never seen before.

An Eluvian stood in the distance, and in front of it were Viddasala and another shorter figure, both speaking in Qunlat. As Cullen approached, he recognized the other person as Solas. Solas was asking her to stop and leave, and he turned his back on her. Before Cullen could react, Viddasala lifted her spear to throw it. Cullen need not have worried, as Solas’s eyes flashed an otherworldly blue and Viddasala was transformed into stone, her spear permanently affixed to her hand.

Cullen’s blood chilled at the realization that Solas was behind the stone army of Qunari. He kept his sword steady in front of him, attempting to keep the fear at bay. The found messages, the reports on the future, Lavellan’s feverish ramblings… the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

“Commander,” Solas greeted him as if he were bored. He appeared the same as Cullen had seen him last, but instead of tattered robes, Solas was dressed in fine armor and fur.

“Solas,” Cullen returned quietly. “You’re Fen’Harel?”

Solas arched a brow. “I suppose you have some iota of deduction skills after all.”

There were thousands of questions Cullen wished to ask, and as he stared at Viddasala and pondered why Solas had reappeared now, he wondered aloud, “You stopped the Qunari?”

Solas glanced at the statues of his own making. “Yes. They would have brought suffering to this world.” As he faced Cullen again, “None of you will be here for long, but I would rather not see you all perish or be held prisoner under the Qunari.”

Cullen tried to understand Solas’s vague comments. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a conversation I would have with someone else,” Solas sighed. “I desired to avoid deceit, although it proved to be a necessary evil.”

Solas moved toward the mirror in front of him. “Stop!” Cullen shouted.

“I must take my leave now. I understand Taissa’s condition has worsened. I would like to see her,” Solas turned his back and stepped towards the Eluvian.

“Solas!” Cullen yelled, desperation roughening his voice. He had to stop Solas before he did anything to hurt his wife, but he was powerless.

Solas slowed but did not turn back. “Fear not. She should have some peace before.”

Solas disappeared into the mirror. Cullen leapt forward to follow, but Cassandra was calling his name. The others ran in his direction, and Cassandra tugged at his arm. “What has happened?” she gasped.

“I don’t know,” Cullen confessed. “But I’m going after Solas.”

“You can’t!” Cassandra gestured at the stone figures around them. “If this is what he is capable of, we are outmatched. We must return to Halamshiral at once, inform Divine Victoria, and speak to the Exalted Council.”

Cullen erupted, “He’s going to Skyhold!”

Cassandra held him by his shoulders, forcing him to fix his gaze on her. “We will write to Skyhold, and we will return there as soon as possible. It’s a fool’s errand to go after him yourself.”

“So you would have me stand by as he goes off and does Maker knows what?” he replied, defeated.

Cassandra sighed, “I have to believe Solas does not have completely ill intentions when it comes to the Inquisitor.”

Cullen scowled, but there was truth in what Cassandra had said. Solas implied he would do Lavellan no harm, and Cullen was aware that the two had been close. So close that before the events of Redcliffe, Cullen had thought they may have been involved romantically, but things had changed when Lavellan re-emerged a year older. Still, every bone in Cullen’s body screamed that he should go through the Eluvian in front of him, damn the consequences.

Dorian had stepped to Cullen’s side and gave Cullen a weak smile. “Cassandra’s right. Plus, Lavellan would murder me with some marvelously impressive swordsmanship if I let you do something stupid and get your handsome self killed.”

Cullen allowed them to lead him back to the Winter Palace, dread heavy in his gut.

* * *

Cullen hurried to his guest room upon their return to the Winter Palace, where he frantically scribed a missive, and then ran to the closest scout to have it sent to Skyhold. Cassandra then pulled him into a meeting with Divine Victoria behind closed doors, where the three of them begrudgingly decided there was only one path they could take.

And so Cullen stood before the Exalted Council and told them the Inquisition would disband itself. It had served its purpose. The representatives looked at him with disbelief at the sudden change of heart, but their relief was obvious.

His duty fulfilled, Cullen was eager to begin the journey home. All of the others had arrived at the Winter Palace by themselves, except for Cullen and Josephine, so he was surprised and touched when everyone announced that they would be coming back to Skyhold before they went their separate ways.

Cullen worried through the day and night, barely sleeping when they took a break from the road. He contemplated taking his horse and departing while the others rested so no further time would be lost, but Cassandra woke, and Cullen could see her watching him like a hawk from where she laid on her bedroll. 

A letter arrived in the morning that put him more at ease.

_Commander -_

_I cannot say if Solas has appeared here, as none have claimed to have seen him._

_However, there has been a change in the Inquisitor’s condition. Can show you when you get here (she’s alive, don’t have a heart attack)._

_June’s well._

_Harding_

Cullen was confused, as he had been certain Solas would have gone straight to Lavellan after their conversation. He also wondered about Lavellan; it seemed no worse could happen to her, so he prayed that it was good news, however unlikely it seemed.

* * *

Cullen could not be halted on his mission to Lavellan’s quarters. Scout Harding, healers, and others tried to grab his attention, but they would all have to wait until he saw her. He swiftly opened the door to her room. Nothing looked different as Cullen approached, until he was near her bedside. The constant pulsing green light of the Anchor was missing. Cullen gaped, his brain slowly comprehending that it was because her entire arm was missing. Bandages were tightly wound at Lavellan’s shoulder, with crimson blooming across them at the place her upper arm had formerly occupied. How many times would he have to stand over her as she lay broken in her bed?

“Cullen?” Lavellan greeted him drowsily, opening her eyes and trying to push up on one arm into a sitting position. Cullen went to grab her by the waist to assist, but she shooed him away and did it herself, although it took a few seconds. “You can quit staring at me in horror.”

Cullen sheepishly shut his mouth. “Your arm…”

“Got rid of that blasted Anchor.” Lavellan glanced down at thin air where the mark might have once rested. “I’m free,” she laughed.

Only she could be so carefree about losing a limb, but it had been a death sentence. One that she had miraculously escaped. Cullen could hardly believe it. “How?”

Lavellan blinked and drew a deep breath, exhaling it steadily. “Solas.”

“I ran into him- “ he rushed to explain.

“I know. I know everything,” she interrupted. “I knew part of it for some time. He came through the Eluvian here, snuck up to my room. We talked, and he took the mark away and left. I’m thankful to him for that. But I had not predicted what his ultimate goal was. Solas would burn down our world to bring back that of his past.”

“We’ll find him again, and we’ll stop him for once and for all,” Cullen reassured himself and her.

“We’ll find him and convince him this isn’t the way. There is good in him. I tried to guide him away from his plans; with more opportunity, perhaps we can, and without further bloodshed.”

There wasn’t a chance to discuss it more in that moment, as the door burst open behind them, and in filed all of Lavellan’s friends, including Dorian holding June. Cullen’s heart nearly burst at the wide grin on his wife’s face. Her eyes were still swollen from her near-sleepless nights, and her skin hung from her bones, but she looked happier than she had been in months. 

“Come say hi!” Lavellan called to their daughter. Dorian hesitated, eying Lavellan’s injury, but he placed June in her lap. Lavellan hugged June to her body with her arm and pressed numerous kisses to her milky caramel skin. “I’ve missed you so much, my darling.”

“What about us? Have you missed us at all?” Dorian jokingly whined.

“You come here too, Uncle Dorian.” Dorian bent down and embraced Lavellan, and the others gathered around her bed.

“I hope you’re alright,” Dorian said as he gestured at her missing arm.

“I will be,” she responded. “Is someone going to tell me what I missed?”

Sera snorted. “You want to hear all about how your Cully-wully got on playing Quizzy?”

Lavellan beamed at Cullen. “I definitely do.”

He grimaced, not wanting her smile to fade but acknowledging that she needed the facts. “About the Inquisition-”

“Seems you’ll need to go house hunting,” Dorian chimed in.

“Oh, really?” Lavellan replied. 

So the group filled Lavellan in on the events of the Exalted Council and its outcome. June grew restless, and they all took turns entertaining her. Lavellan asked questions throughout and nodded from time to time, but she did not appear devastated.

“We’ll all be splitting up, and we won’t have nearly the same resources, but I’m confident we can continue our mission at its core because we always have each other, no matter how far apart we are. The stakes are high, but they have been before, and we will persevere if we remain focused, even if we must do it from the shadows,” Lavellan spoke off the cuff, and Cullen had to smile at her impromptu motivational address. It had been a while since he had last heard her lead like that. It was as if a spark from within her had been relit and the tinder was catching flame.

Lavellan reached for Cullen’s hand. He was exhausted, as if he had lived a whole year in just the last few days. He would rest easier that night, and hopefully at Lavellan’s side in the bed they used to share. There was a new threat looming over their little family, but he would fight to keep them and Thedas safe at any cost. They might need to trade in their fortress for a rural farmhouse, and his love might not be able to fight like she was able to before, but the tide had turned since Lavellan’s precipitous decline. There was hope.


End file.
